


Songs of the Enantiomers

by Shadow_Side



Series: Chiralityverse [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Strexcorp, established threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 171,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Side/pseuds/Shadow_Side
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's several weeks after the defeat of Strexcorp, and Kevin is living happily with Carlos and Cecil. But when news comes from home that his sister is in danger, Kevin runs off to rescue her… and sets in motion a series of events that make one fact very clear:</p><p>The battle for Night Vale is over. The battle for Desert Bluffs is about to begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it turns out you can't stop the sequel! This one presented itself almost immediately after I finished _On the Nature of Love and Chirality_ , springing from a couple of deliberate loose plot threads along with a sudden and slightly alarming realisation. It then proceeded to run away with me much the same way as its predecessor, albeit helpfully rather more AU this time around.
> 
> Warnings for: more smut, more angst, more trauma and more violence. Also rather a lot of blood, given that most of this one takes place in Desert Bluffs, which in addition means it is somewhat darker in places. But, never fear, I have balanced it out with extra OT3 goodness. And badness… ;-)
> 
> Many thanks to my palaeolinguist, Davechicken, for help with the Linear-B and Latin snippets, as well as for the beta, for the awesome banner art, and for acting as my dinosaur-wrangler. (There are no dinosaurs – or, indeed, winged prehistoric reptiles often _mistaken_ for dinosaurs – involved in this, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't always have a trusted dinosaur-wrangler close at hand. Just in case.)
> 
> And yes, this one does use song titles/lyrics as its chapter headings. A little less cool than the scientific laws, I know, but there's only so much one can do with Wikipedia and an A-Level in Chemistry! Plus, as you'll soon discover, a song does feature rather prominently in the plot, so the connection is still there…
> 
> Also, just so the main title makes sense right from the start, an enantiomer is one of two chemically-identical molecules that are mirror images of each other; i.e. they are chiral. And this is Chiralityverse, after all! ;-)
> 
> Lastly… I am breaking with my usual traditions and posting this before I've actually finished it. Having exceeded the length of _On the Nature_ in its entirety and still being miles off the end, I decided it would make sense to put up what I've written so far as there is quite a lot of it! But if this note is still at the start of the fic, it means I'm not done yet… so be prepared for a cliffhanger! (If this note has vanished then the fic is complete… but then you won't be able to see the note anymore so this part is kinda redundant…)
> 
> …And it's done! At last! I have, however, opted to leave the above paragraph in place, partly because it amuses me and mostly to see if the minor paradox results in any interesting warps in spacetime.
> 
> For science, you understand. For _science_. ;-)

_I'm haunted_  
_By the lives that wove the web_  
_Inside my haunted head_

~ Poe: _'Haunted'_

***

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.

Except, of course, that time doesn't exist, so any notion of 'best' or 'worst' becomes rather difficult to pin down, too. And even now, several weeks later – or whatever passes for weeks in a town where time doesn't work – it's still hard to figure out what was good and what was bad. What was right and what was wrong.

What matters, it seems, is what _is_. And what is… is wonderful.

It has, indeed, been several weeks since what is now known as the Battle of Night Vale; since the terrifying and physics-defying afternoon in which the people of this quiet desert community fought off the machinations of Strexcorp Synernists Inc, the undeniably evil corporate mega-conglomerate from Desert Bluffs. Since that day, life in Night Vale has slowly started to return to normal. It hasn't always been an easy process: Strexcorp left deep wounds on the town, literal and metaphorical, and more than a few of Night Vale's citizens died in that fateful final battle.

But in the end… the people prevailed. They prevailed, they _triumphed_ , and normalcy is slowly starting to return.

Not that anything about Night Vale could ever actually be considered 'normal', of course.

Though if those days were tumultuous for the town, they were infinitely more so for its favourite scientist. And, looking back – remembering the day in the sunlight, remembering flaming torches in the night, remembering walls and doors and the key to it all – Carlos wonders if he'd do anything differently, if he could go back to the start.

He regretted a lot of it at the time. He regrets _nothing_ now.

How could he? How could he regret a course of action that led him to this: to a bed, in a room, in a town? The bed is his own, the room his own, the _town_ his own, and the two men here with him… they're his own as well.

The three of them lie in a comfortable tangle, the heat of recent exertion cooling on their skin, all of them pressed in close. Carlos is in the middle this time but over the last few weeks they've tried every combination possible and it has been – quite frankly – amazing beyond the bounds of reason.

" _Oh_ , that was good…" Cecil murmurs, curling in tighter against Carlos' side. "I don't think I could _ever_ get tired of it…"

"…I could get tired _by_ it, though," Kevin adds, curled into Carlos' other side. "Thank goodness we're not on air until tomorrow afternoon. I feel like I could sleep all morning…"

"You're not _going_ to sleep all morning, though, are you?" Carlos asks, looking at the man on his left.

Kevin grins at him. "Of course not. I'm going to persuade you both to do _that_ again and then maybe I'll make pancakes…"

"…You remember the part where wheat and wheat by-products are illegal in this town, yes?" Cecil says, in the tone of voice he uses when he's trying to wind Kevin up. It is nigh-on _impossible_ to wind Kevin up but that doesn't stop Cecil trying.

Mostly because the reaction when he manages it is _priceless_.

"Oh, you," Kevin replies, idly. "Of course I do. But the City Council seems oddly reticent to challenge me about it. I think maybe they're a little worried by me. You're not worried by me, are you?"

" _Constantly_ ," Cecil tells him, though he's grinning too now.

Carlos doesn't think he'll ever get over how wonderful this is. How much he loves just being able to lie here with the two of them and know that everything is exactly as it should be.

It was quite an ordeal to get here. But by _Einstein_ , it was so worth it.

***

One of the most important rules of life is this: never say, "It's all OK in the end." Never say, "It's over." Never say, "Happily ever after."

…Even if this is, technically, three rules.

It is not the end. It is not over. And there is no such thing as 'ever after'.

There is only now.

And there is only what comes next.

***

Carlos awakes in the middle of the night. At first he thinks nothing of it, but after a second he processes that one side of him is colder than it should be. Cecil is still curled against his right side, breathing softly and obviously asleep, but his left side…

…OK, where did Kevin go?

Kevin _does_ have a tendency to wander off in the middle of the night. He sleeps even less than Carlos does, and on more than one occasion Carlos has caught him in the garden, engaged in certain arcane rites that the man still practices.

'No blood in the house', it seems, doesn't extend to 'no blood in the garden'.

On the rare occasion when the topic comes up, Cecil always avoids passing comment. Carlos, on the other hand, usually mumbles something about freedom of religious expression and then changes the subject, in what he knows is an increasingly desperate attempt to hide his _actual_ reaction to it all.

The first time he saw Kevin covered in blood, he was terrified. Also annoyed, because when you're in a relationship with someone, you kind of _want_ to know if they have leanings towards occasionally ending up covered in blood. And indeed, on most of the following occasions, he's _also_ been predominately terrified.

The trouble is… when your life isn't in danger and the world as you know it isn't coming to an end, it's also a tiny bit sexy, and Carlos _really_ doesn't want to be engaging with those thoughts because, seriously, what is wrong with him?

Having realised that one of his two chiral boyfriends isn't curled up in bed where he's supposed to be, Carlos looks around, blinking against the darkness. A number of forces are at work here: inertia, curiosity, and both the positive and negative risks of finding Kevin in the garden covered in blood again.

Inertia is the hardest to fight. The bed is lovely and warm. _Cecil_ is lovely and warm. And snuggly. And Carlos is very happy where he is, and Kevin is probably fine and…

…only, Carlos increasingly has a sense for when Kevin _isn't_ fine. It's the strangest thing, but… he does.

Slowly, he extricates himself from the bed, finds his pyjama trousers and pulls them on. Then he paces softly over to the door. The hall light is off, but there's a glow coming from the living room beyond, so Carlos slips out of the bedroom and walks quietly down towards it. Only… there's no one here, either.

He heads into the kitchen, and that's when he realises the back door is ajar, spilling a trickle of warm, desert air into the room.

Well. This probably means Kevin is in the garden, and this increases the likelihood that he's either covered in blood, or summoning something, or chanting away in that lovely language he uses for said arcane activities, and Carlos really shouldn't interrupt because surely the man won't be too long and will come back to bed soon enough and…

…except, there's no sounds from outside and that's odd because there's normally something, and…

…oh, Carlos is just going to have to look.

Cautiously, quietly, he pulls the back door wider open… and is surprised to find that there's nothing weird going on outside. Nothing at all. Kevin is indeed here, but he's just standing – dressed only in his pyjama trousers – looking up at the sky.

For a long, long moment, Carlos doesn't move. Doesn't say a word. He just pauses on the threshold, staring out at the other man. Admiring him, quietly: the way the moonlight plays over his skin, making him look ethereal and otherworldly and mysterious. In the dim glow from above, Carlos can just make out the scar at the top of Kevin's right arm: a reminder of the day he was injured outside this very house, whilst defending Cecil and Carlos from a pair of Strexcorp enforcers.

What an insane day that was. Or… it was at the time. By the end it seemed borderline _normal_ in comparison.

There's no scar on his left side, though, where he was stabbed during the final battle. Not even a trace of a mark. Some nights, Carlos still wakes with a jump, remembering how it felt to kneel next to Kevin on that battlefield, the other man's blood all over his hands, watching him fade and then seeing him pulled back from the brink by a power Carlos will never understand.

Dana.

Carlos often tries to thank her. A lot. She won't let him, but he still tries.

Eventually Carlos paces outside, walking down the narrow path towards Kevin. The other man jumps a little as he hears footsteps, turning to glance over his shoulder and… oh, that's weird.

Kevin looks _alarmed_. Kevin _never_ looks alarmed. The man is even harder to unsettle than he is to wind up, and that's really saying something.

"Carlos?" Kevin whispers. "Are you OK?"

"I could ask you the same," Carlos replies, moving in but not quite daring to make contact just yet.

"Me?" Kevin says. "Of course I'm OK. I'm always OK."

He isn't OK. He's trying to hide it – that much is obvious – but he isn't OK.

Carlos steps in closer. This could prove to be a little risky, given that Kevin has a tendency to get rather physical if he feels threatened (or happy, or amorous, or bored, or just in general), but time and experience have shown that Carlos can't help _liking_ it when the man does, so it's a risk he's usually willing to take.

This time… this time Kevin doesn't react. At _all_. And that means he's suppressing his _actual_ reactions rather a lot.

Something is clearly very wrong.

"What is it?" Carlos pushes, gently.

"Nothing," Kevin flat-out lies. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Kevin," Carlos says, going for broke, "you're not fine. You're standing in the garden in the middle of the night, but without the excuse of arcane symbols, ancient rites, or that maniacal demon of yours. So, come on, out with it. Before I go tell Cecil."

Kevin glances at him for a moment, dark, dark eyes full of memory, and Carlos feels his worry increase still further.

"…Can't you hear it?" Kevin says, finally, looking up at the sky again.

"Hear what?"

"I know you only lived there for a few months and that it was ages ago, but… surely you can _hear_ it?"

Carlos feels suddenly cold. "…You're talking about Desert Bluffs?"

Kevin nods. "Yes."

"You can _hear_ it?"

"I can always hear it," Kevin replies, his voice going unnaturally level and emotionless. "Most of the time my mind doesn't even process it, like how you don't usually think about breathing, but if I stop and concentrate… it's there. Only tonight… tonight I can't _not_ hear it."

"What does it sound like?" Carlos manages.

Kevin looks across at him. "Listen," he says, very softly.

So Carlos does. He stands, still and quiet, staring at the stars, and he listens.

But there's nothing. Nothing but the rustle of bushes in the light breeze, and the chirrup of some type of many-legged nocturnal creature that Carlos always tries hard not to think about.

"…I can't hear anything strange," he says, eventually.

This makes Kevin step suddenly in behind him, skin to skin, hands on his waist, and _wow_ , that's lovely and distracting and maybe they should…

…and then Carlos hears it, as distant as a long-faded memory and as clear as the light of day. He jumps a little, and Kevin holds him tighter, and it's only after a moment that Carlos processes that the other man is trying to be reassuring. Protective, almost.

Why would such a faint and distant sound warrant such a response..?

"Can you hear it now?" Kevin breathes in his ear.

"Yes," Carlos whispers.

"What does it sound like?"

Carlos closes his eyes. " _Angels_ ," he whispers. "It sounds like angels, singing softly in the night…"

Kevin tightens his hold again, but there's an urgency to his touch now. "No," he says. "No, it doesn't. It _doesn't_. Listen again. Listen _harder_."

A little perturbed, Carlos does as he's asked, trying to… concentrate, somehow. Trying to hear every level of that wonderful, wonderful sound, and… and…

And if shifts. It shifts, like a person taking off a beautiful mask to reveal the terrifying visage underneath. The song of the angels… no, not angels, _sirens_ … slips sideways, and becomes something else. Something exactly the same but completely different; the beat of broken wings and the grip of bloodstained hands, and the ceaseless echo of cracked stone and twisted metal, churning and roaring and _devouring_ in the darkness.

Carlos jumps in horror, opening his eyes and – mercifully – losing the sound in the process. Kevin keeps hold of him, gentler at last, but somehow no less urgent.

"Now what did it sound like?" he asks.

"…Like devastation. Destruction. Like… like _Hell_. I don't… how is that even..?"

"You remember the doors?" Kevin says, suddenly. "The doors that change when you catch sight of them out of the corner of your eye?"

"Yes."

"This is like that. If you just hear it, it sounds… alluring. Wonderful. Soothing, bright and beautiful. But if you turn your head, if you ignore what the world _wants_ you to perceive and instead try to find what's _really_ there…"

"…You see things as they actually are," Carlos concludes. He feels cold, now. Cold as ice, even out here in the warm desert air, with Kevin pressed in behind him. Cold as _ice_. "Kevin, what was I just listening to?"

"That was Desert Bluffs," Kevin answers. "That's what it sounds like, all the time."

"But, I lived there for months, and I never…"

"Oh, you heard it. Your mind has just blocked it out. But when you lived there… you heard it. We _all_ did. We… _they_ … all do. To start off with… you might have processed it as something else. People who weren't born there tend to hear it as a low hum at first, gradually becoming more and more distinct, the longer they stay."

And Carlos remembers. He remembers the humming, in the background, like the rapid beating of a thousand hearts. He remembers the way it sounded, that night several weeks ago when he saw Desert Bluffs again, during the escape from the Strexcorp facility. The way that hum had echoed in his head; the way it had left him briefly _transfixed_ against all reason or common sense… a ceaseless thrum and a red glow in the darkness…

He shivers. "What _is_ it, though?" he pushes. He knows he isn't going to like the answer. He's already not liking any of what he's hearing. But he's a scientist, and that means he has to question things.

Even when blissful ignorance might be preferable.

"I told you, it's Desert Bluffs," Kevin says, though on some level Carlos is sure this is not the whole truth by any means. "It does that. It… calls to people. Calls them in. Soothes them. _Welcomes_ them. Wraps them up in warmth and happiness and love. And then…"

"…It devours them…" Carlos finishes, understanding.

"Yes," Kevin whispers. "Not literally, of course. Well, not _usually_. But the more you stay there… the more of that sound you hear… the more you can't ever leave. Didn't you ever wonder how a man of your temperament somehow managed to spend months living in a town drenched in blood?"

"I just… I just got used to it," Carlos replies, but his voice is shaking a little, and he knows it's because what Kevin is saying makes far, far too much sense. "It was for _science_ , and sometimes you have to go to strange places for science."

"Yes, you do, but that… that was way beyond what you would normally accept. We both know it. And yet, for months, you _did_ accept it. It took… it took the hostile takeover to finally push you over the edge. You accepted it for so long because _that_ is what Desert Bluffs does to you. It calls you in, lulls you under, and makes you never want to leave…"

Carlos goes colder still. "Like… like a pitcher plant?"

"Exactly. Exactly like that. And once you're inside… getting out is almost impossible."

"But I did."

"Yes, you did," Kevin replies, softly. "I always assumed it was because you'd only been there a short time and weren't fully caught, but it's possible there was another reason. Something… deeper."

"But… how can you say all this? You loved that place," Carlos reasons.

"And I still do," Kevin tells him. "I lived there my whole life. I was _born_ there. That sound is engrained so deep into my psyche that you could _never_ get it out…"

"Do you wish it wasn't?"

"No," Kevin manages, and merciful Einstein, the man's voice is actually cracking now. "No. I wish… I could go home. And that's the worst thing. I _know_ what that place is. I've been out of it long enough to be able to see it both ways, for the first time in my whole life. And I'm here with you, and Cecil, and this is more wonderful and more perfect than I can possibly put into words. _And I still want to go back_."

Carlos turns at that, wrapping both arms around Kevin, and the other man all but collapses against him, and he's _shaking_. This is a guy who summons demons for _fun_ , who can knife people to _death_ without blinking, and who is brazen enough to utilise _wheat and wheat by-products_ despite how cripplingly illegal they are.

"Come back to bed," Carlos pleads. "You're safe with us. You _know_ you're safe with us. Just… just come back to bed and let us hold you."

"All right," Kevin concedes. "All right."

They turn, heading towards the house again, but they only get a few steps before Carlos realises that they're not alone. Cecil is standing in the doorway, watching them with a very concerned look on his face.

"…How much of that did you hear?" Kevin asks, sounding worried.

"Enough," Cecil whispers, and – without another word – he wraps both arms around his double and pulls him in tight. It's as much a relief to Carlos as it evidently is to Kevin, given that Carlos sometimes still worries about what Cecil thinks of the man. They didn't exactly get off to a good start, even if things have improved markedly since then.

Even if all that shouting and arguing really was _very_ telling, when Carlos looks at it in hindsight.

"Come on," Cecil says. "Back to bed, both of you."

So in they go, Carlos locking the door behind them – and checking it, as though that terrible sound might somehow be able to get in otherwise – before heading into the bedroom once more. They curl up together, Kevin in the middle this time, with Cecil pressed in behind him and Carlos in front.

He relaxes a little, when they're all like that. But only a little.

"It's going to be OK," Cecil whispers, and he sounds so sure. So certain. "Whatever happens… it's going to be OK."

"I don't know that it is," Kevin replies. He really is scary when he completely loses his usual cheeriness, though in this case it's not imminent-danger scariness, but more… lingering dread. Because it really takes a lot to knock the man like this.

A _lot_.

And… there's something he's not saying. Carlos can't work out what it is – or even what it could be – but he's too much of an expert in _not_ saying things to miss when someone else is doing it too.

But he doesn't want to push the matter. At least, not yet.

"Just… hold me," Kevin whispers. "I'm sure I'll feel better in the light of day…"

He doesn't seem particularly convinced, though.

They lie in silence for a few minutes, all curled close together, and Kevin does at least seem to be relaxing slightly, though maybe that's just the tiredness creeping back in.

"…Can you still hear it?" Carlos eventually can't help asking.

"Yes," Kevin replies, voice very, very level. "I told you… I can _always_ hear it."

And that's… well. When you stop and think about it… that's more than a little terrifying.

***

When Carlos wakes up, there's light glowing round the edge of the curtains and… OK, the other two are already awake. He stares over at them, a grin crossing his face – which is understandable, given that right now Kevin is lying on his back with Cecil on top of him, and the two of them are midway through some _extremely_ involved making out.

It's always been a very good way to distract Carlos when he's got too much on his mind, and Cecil has always been very good at doing it. And apparently it works on Kevin too.

Carlos curls happily on his side, hands pillowed under his head, and watches them. It's another moment before they pause and look at him, although he suspects they've known they had an audience because of the way the kissing became even more involved. When they do look at him, he's still grinning, and he knows there's a tellingly hopeful look in his eyes.

"Well, good morning," he says. "Don't stop on my account."

So – at least for another moment – they don't. Watching them kiss is hypnotically beautiful, and Carlos is _very_ happy to carry on doing it. Right now, Kevin has a hand on the back of Cecil's head, stroking gently through his hair, and Cecil is using one hand to keep himself braced over his double, the other cupping the side of his face. And the kissing itself is like watching the two of them trading secrets; soft, breathy secrets that intertwine over and over.

Secrets only they can know.

Eventually they pause again, staring first at each other and then at Carlos.

"…Thanks for last night," Kevin whispers – perhaps just because he wants to, or perhaps because he thinks it's important to say it before they get rather distracted. Which they're clearly about to.

"You don't have to thank us," Carlos replies.

"Even so… I mean it. This… transition isn't easy for me. But I don't regret it. Not when I get to be with the two of you."

"Speaking of which…" Cecil murmurs, looking suddenly wicked.

…Yes. They're _definitely_ about to get distracted.

Giving Kevin one last, quick kiss, Cecil slips under the covers, going down on his double all at once. It can't exactly come as a surprise, but there's still a shocked note in Kevin's voice as he cries out when the stimulation first hits, rocking his head back and closing his eyes for a second.

As he does, Carlos moves in too, resting a gentle hand on Kevin's chest, over his heart, and then leaning in to start kissing him; soft and light and breathy, giving them both a chance to enjoy every sensation.

And Kevin just lies still and _lets_ them, and that is more than a little unusual. He's always been very involved when it comes to intimate situations like these; always preferring to be the active partner – or one of the active partners – in the whole equation. It means that he's an extremely _giving_ lover, because he'd much rather focus his attention on someone else, and that _is_ nice, but the flipside is that getting him to just relax and accept some attention is harder than it should be.

But this morning… maybe last night took some of the fight out of him, or maybe he simply _needs_ them even more than usual. Either way, he just lies on his back, letting them do what they want, and it's hard for Carlos not to enjoy that, even with the lingering worries drifting through his mind at the same time.

" _Please_ ," Kevin breathes, in between kisses, staring up at Carlos with a strange look in his obsidian-dark eyes.

"Shhhh," Carlos whispers back, dipping in to kiss the other man again, and again, and again. "It's OK. You're with us. You're safe."

And it really is wonderful, to be able to think that. To know that they're all here, all safe, all together, in a liberated Night Vale. Even after so many weeks… the realisation doesn't lose its impact, and Carlos hopes it never will.

Cecil emerges from beneath the covers, starting to slowly kiss his way up Kevin's chest, lingering over every movement, and by the time he finally presses in to kiss Kevin firmly on the lips, the other man looks completely out of his mind with it.

"You like that?" Cecil whispers, with a little smile.

Kevin nods rather a lot, seemingly unable to break eye-contact with him. " _Yes_ ," he manages. "Yes. Please… please don't stop…"

Cecil's smile brightens – no prizes for guessing who he's picked that one up from – and he turns to lightly kiss Carlos whilst simultaneously pushing a hand down to start stroking Kevin, which means he gets two very appreciative moans at the same time: a soft one from Carlos, in response to the very lovely kissing, and a rather more desperate one from Kevin, who now looks somewhat wrecked.

It's wonderful to watch.

" _Oh_ ," Kevin whispers, as Carlos now moves in to kiss him again; soft, gentle kisses, over and over, to keep him adrift on every last sensation.

Carlos finds himself smiling too, as a strange urge – borne aloft on a memory – comes over him. "Are you close?" he asks. It's a redundant question. No one with _that_ look in their eyes could be anything else… but sometimes asking a question isn't about discovering an answer. Just about _hearing_ it.

Kevin nods rather too much again. " _Yes_ ," he replies.

"Do one thing for us?"

" _Anything_."

"Say our names when you come. _Scream them to the rafters_. So we _all_ know right where you belong…"

The circularity of the universe can be a beautiful thing… and a lot of fun to play with, when you realise you can.

Looking as though he approves wholeheartedly of this idea, Cecil speeds up… and it's the last push Kevin needs. He comes all of a sudden, tensing and then gasping as completion races through him… and more than making good on his promise.

" _Cecil!_ " he cries. " _Carlos!_ "

And as the moment finally begins to abate, they both just curl around him, kissing him one at a time, holding on as the man between them catches his breath. He still looks out of his mind – in a very good way – as well as strangely at peace.

Apparently that was just what he needed.

"Thank you," he manages, eventually. "That was… _wow_ …"

Cecil grins. "I'm glad you approve."

"And _you_ ," Kevin adds, looking at Carlos, "you're _wicked_."

Carlos shrugs. "I learned everything from you."

They curl in tighter.

Kevin kisses Cecil on the jaw. "You do realise this means I'm going to have to go all-out in response?"

"Kevin… I am _counting_ on it," Cecil replies.

"Has anyone ever told you you're more than a little wicked too?"

"Yes. You. On a number of occasions. I'm _your_ double, remember? How else would I be?"

Kevin grins. "Touché. I mean it about the response, though. I'm going to make you both scream the roof off."

And Carlos curls in tighter. "Kevin… as Cecil says, we are _counting_ on it."

***

It's later that afternoon, and Carlos is working in his lab.

He's got plenty to be getting on with – including reams of data from the seismic monitoring station that _really_ needs graphing – but he keeps getting distracted by a _very_ interesting little experiment into crystallisation, which he's been running for the last few days and which is just starting to get weird.

He is _also_ distracted by the fact that he's got the radio on, and he's listening to Cecil and Kevin's show. Normally – even now – he can work just fine when he's listening to them, but today… focusing is difficult.

Hopefully that's because of the very lovely memories of this morning, as opposed to the rather less lovely memories of last night.

 _"…and on Thursday, the staff of Dark Owl Records will be building a mountain,"_ Cecil is saying, midway through the community calendar, having just come back after the weather. _"Given that mountains aren't real, we're not yet sure how they intend to do this, or if the Secret Police should be stepping in to prevent it, but the staff did release a statement saying that it would only be a_ small _mountain and that there was no cause for civic alarm."_

_"Cecil?"_

_"Yes, Kevin?"_

_"Why_ don't _the people of Night Vale believe in mountains?"_

There's a very slight pause, and then Cecil replies, _"…Because they're not real."_

Another pause. _"…I see,"_ Kevin answers, sounding pleasantly bemused.

But before Cecil can say anything in response to this, there's the sound of a door opening in the background, and someone else stepping into the booth. At first, Carlos thinks nothing of it – interns do interrupt from time to time to pass on items of breaking news, but they're usually not a cause for concern (despite the insistences of the City Council, who have been alarmingly paranoid since returning to power following the overthrow of Strexcorp).

Though as soon as Cecil speaks… Carlos knows that, this time, something _is_ wrong.

_"Listeners, Intern Janelle has just stepped into the booth and handed me an urgent press release from the City Council. They are warning all citizens to be on the lookout for several people spotted in town earlier this afternoon. They are described as men and women, of varying heights and hair colours, but all wearing black suits and bright orange ties. Ladies and gentlemen… we have reason to believe that there are Strexcorp enforcers in town, in clear violation of the City Council's recently-enacted law banning all Strexcorp personnel from entering Night Vale…"_

The terror hits like a wave, and Carlos finds himself holding onto the nearest workbench in shock. _Strex_. Why would Strex come back? Why now? What do they _want_?

… _Who_ do they want..?

He's dragged from these thoughts by a sudden commotion on the radio: a deep rumbling in the background, a quick scramble of movement, and a crackle and thud that can only be someone dropping a microphone onto the desk.

 _"…OK, I don't want to alarm anyone, but that sounded very much like a low-flying helicopter,"_ Cecil says, and Carlos can hear in his voice just how worried the man is. Worried and clearly distracted by whatever's going on in there. _"Furthermore, Kevin has just taken off his headset and run to the window, and… wait, it's what? You're sure? But why would they be..? Wait, wait, Kevin… what are you..? Come back!"_

There's another brief commotion, some quick movement, and then a door opens and closes heavily.

 _"…Listeners,"_ Cecil goes on, _"Kevin has just left the studio at some speed. I don't know where my co-host and double is going, but I do know that he said the helicopter overhead is_ yellow _, and marked with the Strexcorp emblem. Everyone, please, for your own safety, stay indoors and wait for further instructions. And I…"_

His voice is wavering, and he's clearly worried.

 _"…Whatever this is, I can't let Kevin face it alone. I_ can't _. So… stay tuned for… well, if I'm being honest, I don't know. And until next time… goodnight, Night Vale, goodnight…"_

Oh, this is bad.

Carlos is out the door in seconds, swiping up his car keys as he goes.

This is so very, very bad.

***

Even driving as fast as he can risk getting away with, it still takes Carlos longer than he would like to get into the town centre. He can see the yellow helicopter in the distance as he travels, and the merest sight of it makes his chest ache with terror.

Why are they here? Why now?

His mind is full of too many possibilities, all of them unwelcome and more than a few of them directly connected to Kevin, and he really can't bear the thought of something _else_ happening, so soon after last time.

It may have been weeks, but it often feels like days. Like hours. Like _minutes_. Like he's still standing in that oddly-lit square, a spiral of light filling the skies, helicopters roaring overhead, and both people and demons fighting for their lives on the ground below.

Blood. So much blood. So very much…

The car screeches to a halt as Carlos realises he's gotten as close as he dares like this. He parks on the roadside and takes off running, crossing the last blocks between where he's stopped and where the radio station is, and…

 _Oh_. He can see it now, at the intersection just up ahead. There's a good few people here already, all staring and pointing skywards at the yellow helicopter that's circling around and clearly coming in to land. The Secret Police are here too, trying to set up a cordon, and… merciful _Einstein_ , they've brought the piñata…

The Secret Police worry Carlos at the best of times, but when they deploy _that_ thing – which is armoured and quite lethal – he's usually left at a loss for words. There is simply no way the police force in a relatively small and strangely isolated desert community could _possibly_ need something so… overpowered. Although right now he's not exactly going to argue, given that the thing has just planted itself firmly in the ground and is training its twin cannons on the rapidly descending helicopter, making an unsettlingly cheery sound as it does.

But no one seems to be making a move. Yes, the piñata is primed to fire, and yes, the circle of police officers are all readying their blowdarts, but… no one actually does anything.

And the reason for this is alarmingly obvious. Kevin is standing in the centre of the intersection, staring up at the helicopter with his arms held out. Cecil is trying to get to him, but two of the Secret Police have grabbed hold of his shoulders and are fighting to stop him breaking the cordon.

The helicopter finally connects with the ground and comes to a halt, blades gradually powering down. The Secret Police train their blowdarts on it threateningly, but still they don't fire.

Are they scared? Or are they too intrigued to see what Kevin plans to do?

As soon as he can be heard over the decreasing roar of the chopper blades, Kevin calls out, "You even think about stepping from that helicopter and I'm summoning my demon. I'll do it. I don't want this to get unpleasant, but it _will_ if you don't turn that thing around and leave Night Vale _this minute_."

Still nothing. Kevin's arms-out gesture goes to one of palms-up, and Carlos knows the man is going to start chanting any moment, and the _last_ thing he wants is Kevin's insane demon being added to the mix.

…well, OK, maybe not the _last_ thing, but _close_.

The helicopter door slides open with a thunk, and everyone takes a very abrupt step back; everyone except for Kevin, who doesn't even flinch. Two orange-tied enforcers climb out, followed by two more, standing and flanking the doorway, a pair on each side.

"I'm warning you..!" Kevin says. His palms have started to glow, and it can only be seconds before he starts invoking that terrifying, bat-winged _creature_ that he so alarmingly refers to as 'Azzie', in clear defiance of any kind of common sense.

"Oh, come now, Kevin, there's no need for all the theatrics," says a voice from inside the helicopter.

The four enforcers snap rigidly to attention… and a woman steps out.

Carlos may not be attracted to girls, but he doesn't need to be in order to tell that the woman in question is stunningly beautiful. She's tall and slender, with long, blonde hair tied up elaborately at the back of her head, and – even at this distance – piercing blue eyes… which would be very unusual indeed if the woman is from Desert Bluffs. She's dressed in a very sharp black trouser suit with a vibrant orange blouse, the obligatory Strexcorp pin badge on her left lapel, and one of those terrifyingly elegant silver knives holstered at her back.

And the moment he sees her, Kevin drops his hands, clearly stunned. "Naomi?!" he exclaims.

They close the distance between them and embrace; platonically, yes, but very warmly all the same. This clearly takes the Secret Police by surprise because they all start aiming their blowdart pipes more menacingly again, though they're also a little distracted because Cecil manages to break away from the two who are holding him and race towards his double, and Carlos takes the opportunity to charge through the crowd as well, whilst he can.

What the _heck_ is going on?

"What are you doing here?" Kevin says to Naomi, as they step back.

She gives an easy little shrug. "I came to see you."

"Well, I'm touched, but you do know they nearly shot you out of the sky?"

"Oh, what's life without a few risks?" Naomi replies, calmly. She waves at the circle of Secret Police. "You can all stand down now. I'm not here to cause trouble."

"Strexcorp personnel are forbidden from entering Night Vale!" one of the closer officers calls out, from behind a levelled blowdart pipe. "Get back in your helicopter and leave this instant or those of you who survive the consequences will be arrested."

"Just… just hold off a moment, please?" Kevin says, turning and giving the officer what is clearly meant to be a placatory look. "They're not a threat to you."

"We don't know that," the officer replies. "And we have no reason to trust them. The City Council may have been persuaded to let _you_ remain in Night Vale, but they certainly won't want any _more_ of your ilk posing a risk to our–"

"OK, now _that_ is hurtful," Kevin interrupts, clapping a hand to his chest. "I've been _nothing_ but compliant since I moved here, and I _did_ nearly _die_ trying to help save this town, so the _least_ you could do is not be so very–"

"I think what my double means," Cecil now interrupts, having finally made it to where Kevin is standing and moving carefully between him and the unhappy-looking secret policeman, "is that he wouldn't do anything to jeopardise the safety of Night Vale or its citizens, but he really does need a few minutes to talk to… uh, Naomi, was it?"

"That's right," she says, coolly, and looking obviously bemused and intrigued by being faced with Kevin's double. "Look," she goes on, now turning to the secret policeman, "I do apologise if my helicopter caused any alarm. It's a lot quicker and – believe it or not – a lot less conspicuous than a car. If I persuade the pilot and my escort to wait outside the city, will you at least let me talk to Kevin in peace?"

The secret policeman narrows his eyes. "Only if a Night Vale citizen vouches for you," he says. " _Besides_ Kevin."

Kevin turns imploringly to Cecil. The two of them are getting alarmingly good at conversing without words, although this doesn't seem to be a particularly difficult discussion, given that even Carlos can work it out.

"I will," Cecil says, almost at once.

This gets him the narrowed look as well. "Fine," the secret policeman concedes. "Fine. But if any of you make trouble, the whole _lot_ of you will end up in the abandoned mineshaft outside town faster than you can say _civil disobedience_. Clear?"

"Perfectly," Kevin replies, in an impeccably sweet voice that's suddenly laden with threatening undertones.

Naomi turns to her escort, none of whom seem pleased about any of this. "OK, seriously you guys, just go park beyond the city limits and wait for me. Don't give me that look; you know I can handle myself. Go sit tight like I _told_ you to in the first place and I'll come out to meet you when I'm done. And call the recon team and tell _them_ to stop harassing the locals before they get themselves killed."

"But, Ms Naomi, you know we're not supposed to–" one of the enforcers starts out.

"Do you _want_ me to summon my demon?" she interjects, tone cool as ice. "Because I will. Your predecessor would warn you against provoking that, if he was still sane enough to speak…"

"…Of course, Ms Naomi…" the enforcer murmurs, and starts clambering hastily back into the helicopter. The others follow, and soon the blades are whirring again, a wash of turbulence rushing over the crowd as the chopper lifts off.

When it's gone, an odd silence descends.

"Well," Naomi says, brightly, "can I have a few minutes' peace now?"

"Fine," the closest secret policeman says, again. "Fine. But we'll be watching. You try anything, and–"

"I know, I know," Naomi interrupts. "Hellfire and brimstone and rendition. Gotcha."

This gets her a lot more narrowed looks, but no one seems quite daring enough to argue.

"Is there somewhere we can talk?" Naomi now says to Kevin.

"Our radio station is right around the corner," Kevin tells her. "We should be able to borrow a room there." His voice is level and calm, but Carlos can tell the man is worried all the same.

"Perfect," Naomi replies. "I imagine you'll be wanting to bring your double and the _extremely_ attractive scientist who's been lurking at the edge of the crowd all this time?"

"That might be wise," Kevin says. He doesn't seem remotely surprised that Naomi knows about the connection between the three of them, although given what happened during the Battle of Night Vale, maybe Carlos shouldn't be surprised by that either.

And so, with the collection of locals and Secret Police still watching them in alarm, they head down to the radio station with the woman from Strexcorp in tow. And Carlos isn't sure what's more worrying: that Naomi wants to talk to Kevin, or that she came all this way in order to do it.

Regardless, it seems like one thing is certain:

Strexcorp isn't done with Night Vale just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers of Sand & Mirrors will recognise Naomi, who featured in that 'verse as Kevin's helpful-friend-with-helicopter. Needless to say, this time around she gets a LOT more plot... ;-)


	2. Daddy's Little Defect

_Going all the way, looking so helpless_  
_Everyday_  
_Daddy's little defect_  
_All the same_  
_Keep your secrets away from me_

~ Sugarcult: _'Daddy's Little Defect'_

***

Once they get back to Night Vale Community Radio, Cecil finds them an empty room. They get more than a few looks from the interns, but no one seems daring enough to say a word. And then the four of them are alone – as much as you can be 'alone' when there's four of you – and Kevin finally asks the question he's obviously been waiting to voice.

"Seriously, Naomi, what _are_ you doing here?"

"I told you, I came to see you," she replies. "And I had so hoped to meet these two as well… You must be Cecil, which would make _you_ Carlos. A pleasure. I'm Naomi. Naomi Hartley."

The instant that surname slips her lips, both Cecil and Carlos take a very marked step back, and Carlos knows that Cecil is trying to move defensively in front of him.

"… _Hartley?_ " Cecil repeats. "You mean, like _Derek_ Hartley?"

"The very same," Naomi answers, looking unperturbed. "Derek Hartley, the man who led Strexcorp from the very beginning, until he was killed right here in Night Vale, and by Kevin's demon no less. How is Azatothoth?"

"…He's good, thanks," Kevin replies, calmly.

"…You're related to _Derek Hartley?!"_ Cecil tries again, which is helpful because right now Carlos can't quite get a word out.

"Yes," Naomi says. "His daughter. Well, one of two. The younger one."

Cecil is still staring. "…Forgive me, but… Kevin's demon _killed_ your father and you two are on _hugging_ terms?!"

"Sure we are," Naomi answers. "Couldn't stand my father. Vicious old psychopath. The world's better off without him. I'd say Strexcorp's better off without him too, but that remains to be seen given who's in charge now."

"Oh, who _is_ in charge now?" Kevin obviously can't help asking. He seems to have relaxed somewhat, though it's hard to know how much given how well the man usually hides his true emotional states. "Not… oh, please tell me it isn't your sister..?"

"Yep," Naomi tells him, tone suddenly _very_ wry.

"Your sister?" Carlos finally manages.

"Yep," Naomi says again. "Lauren's having a _whale_ of a time re-organising everything, and–"

"…Wait, _Lauren?!_ " Cecil interrupts. "Not… Lauren _Mallard?_ "

"Lauren _Hartley-_ Mallard," Naomi corrects. "Dad made her double-barrel it when she got married, so just to spite him she kept both names after _Mr_ Mallard's untimely death…"

"…I don't want to know," Carlos says, hoping Naomi won't tell them anyway.

"Probably for the best," Naomi agrees, with a wicked little look in her eyes.

"I had no idea she was so high up," Cecil now says. "I mean… she was just running the radio station the whole time Strex was in town…"

"Indeed," Naomi answers. "And that meant she had complete control of our media message here in Night Vale. Very useful for making sure only the _right_ information gets out. Plus it meant she could keep a close eye on _you_. Don't forget, you were on Strex's person-of-interest list from the very start."

"She was _watching_ me?" Cecil exclaims.

"Oh yes," Naomi tells him. "She had her pick of postings when Dad sent her over here, and she chose you. She's still _very_ sore over how things turned out. It's _extremely_ amusing."

"I… take it you and Lauren don't get on either?" Carlos asks.

"You got it in one," Naomi replies. "Lauren and I… let's just say we're cut from different cloth. She's like Dad. I'm… well, I'm like me."

"Were you even _in_ Night Vale when Strex was here?" Cecil now asks.

"Nope," Naomi says. "I wasn't allowed. Dad said I had to stay back in the Bluffs as the designated survivor…"

Carlos headtilts. "Designated survivor?"

"Yeah, you know, like when the President and all of the cabinet go off to Congress for the State of the Union, and some minor cabinet member like the Agriculture Secretary or something has to stay back in case the Capitol gets hit and everyone else dies? Well, this is like that, only with more business productivity and less demons."

" _Less_ demons?" Cecil repeats.

"Have you _seen_ the state of the government?" Naomi replies, calmly. "They didn't end up like that without at least _some_ extra-planar assistance…"

It's hard to know what to say to this.

"Well," Naomi goes on, with renewed brightness, "I must say, I'm glad I ran into all three of you. I take it the rumours about your little arrangement are true?"

"If you mean 'are all three of us together?' then yes, we are," Kevin tells her. "And it's _awesome_."

"Good," Naomi says, and there's a sudden warmth in her tone that takes Carlos by surprise.

"How do you two know each other, anyway?" he can't help asking – because, if he didn't know full-well that Kevin was only interested in guys, he'd have put money on Naomi being an old flame.

"We've been friends for years," Kevin answers, easily. "We met at a Strex function ages back, and later on I introduced Naomi to the woman she's now married to. How is Darla, anyway?"

"Oh, she's doing great," Naomi tells him. "Still _very_ into the necromancy, though. You don't even want to _know_ what she brought home last week…"

Carlos shudders.

"So…" Kevin's voice goes suddenly too level. "Much as all this catching-up is lovely… you must have come here for a specific reason?"

Naomi's expression goes rather more serious. "I'm afraid so," she replies. "Now, I realise it's been a while since we talked, but you know I don't hold any of what happened against you, right? The whole side-switching thing? I mean, I get it. I totally get it. And, like I say, my Dad had it coming. But… most of Strex thinks differently. They're _really_ not pleased with you. Lauren especially. She was _livid_ when she got back to Desert Bluffs, the night after the battle. It took _days_ to find all the bodies, and we _still_ don't know how she did that thing where… OK, no, sorry, some of you are Night Valean and I shouldn't offend your sensitivities. Suffice it to say… suffice it to say Lauren was _creative_ when it came to punishing the people she felt had let the company down. And she would sorely love to get her hands on you, but whilst you're here in Night Vale… she can't."

Maybe Kevin just understands what Naomi is going to say… or maybe this is what he's been worrying about all along. Either way, he sounds suddenly weighed down by dread as he asks, "…It's my sister, isn't it?"

Naomi nods. "I'm afraid so. Enforcers turned up at Kirsten's place yesterday evening. She's alive, but I don't know where they've taken her."

Kevin goes pale, and Carlos feels like he's just run headlong into a brick wall. How did he never think to ask if Kevin's family would be OK after what happened? Carlos has only met Kirsten once – way back when he was living in Desert Bluffs – but he knows Kevin is close to her. An all-new wave of guilt hits, and he's glad of the way Cecil puts a hand on his waist, as if in response.

Maybe he's feeling something similar. After all… Cecil has a sister of his own, and he must be presuming - correctly - that Kirsten is Caitlin's double.

"…What about Gillian?" Kevin manages to ask. "What about my niece?"

Oh _no_.

"That's the only good news I've got," Naomi replies. "When I heard the enforcers were going after Kirsten, I intercepted Gillian on her way back from school, before anyone could come for her. I've taken her somewhere safe. She's fine, Kevin, I promise. Kirsten, on the other hand… I won't lie to you, I'm worried. Strex wants to draw you out, and I'm sorry to say that it's going to work."

"Oh, it's going to work," Kevin answers, voice laden with sudden menace. "I'm going back to Desert Bluffs tonight – exile or no – and I'm not leaving until my sister _and_ my niece are safely with me."

"Don't do anything hasty," Naomi implores, sounding genuinely concerned. "I can help you if you let me – I _came_ here to help you – but we need to be careful about this."

"Careful?" Kevin repeats. " _Careful?_ I'm going to march into town with Azatothoth at my back and I will _eviscerate_ anyone who even tries to…"

He trails off, the threat in his voice melting back to fear, and Carlos can't stand it any longer. He steps in closer, putting an arm around Kevin and resting a hand on his chest, as Cecil steps up to his double's other side, holding onto him as well. And for a moment… none of them speaks.

Naomi stares. "By Ozhen'ipleth, that's something," she says. "Seriously, in a world where I was into guys, and wasn't married to a completely awesome and deeply terrifying woman with proclivities that would make your toes curl, you three would _totally_ do it for me."

"…You're not normal," Kevin manages, evidently calmed by the contact from Cecil and Carlos.

But he's still shaking.

Naomi shrugs. "I've been called worse. Now, seriously, we need to think about this. You can't just go striding into Desert Bluffs looking for blood. The enforcers will arrest you on the spot, and they won't hesitate to kill your two lovely boyfriends if you bring them along."

Kevin gives her a flat look, which is no doubt exacerbated by his emotional state. "Well, I wasn't going to simply walk in to the centre of town and have my arrival announced on loudspeaker. I know I have a penchant for the dramatic, Naomi, but I'm not stupid."

"I know you're not," she replies. "You are, however, prone to a certain level of _emotional hastiness_ when the people you care about are threatened." And she gestures – not harshly – to Carlos and Cecil. "Case in point. You – _you_ – defected from Strex and from Desert Bluffs for them. You gave up _everything_ , Kevin, and I know that can't be easy for you. I just don't want you to go making any more snap decisions when it could very well get you _killed_ this time."

"Do you have something in mind?" Cecil asks.

"Of course," Naomi answers, coolly. "I wouldn't come here without some semblance of a plan. I'm going to go back to Desert Bluffs this evening and start making discreet enquiries. I have contacts at all levels of the business and sooner or later I'll be able to work out where Kirsten is. In the meantime, we need to get you into town without anyone noticing."

"Take me back with you," Kevin says. "Tonight. In the helicopter."

"And land on the roof of HQ with you?" Naomi replies. "I think that might get more than a little attention. No, we need to do this carefully. You remember Lawrence Lavene?"

"On the edge of town development?" Kevin says. "Sure I do. We used to go bowling together. I even once helped him… oh. _Oh_. I see where you're going with this."

"…Which is..?" Carlos prompts, now a little confused.

"Oh, sorry," Kevin concedes. "Lawrence Lavene lives on the outskirts of Desert Bluffs. He's Larry Leroy's double. Delightful guy, I'm sure you'll like him."

Cecil rubs a hand over his eyes. Much as ending up in a very effective threesome involving Kevin has changed his opinions on the man, it _hasn't_ changed his opinions on Desert Bluffs. If anything, after the whole Strex fiasco, they've gotten worse.

"…Is his house covered in blood?" Cecil asks.

Kevin pats him on the shoulder. "Cecil, it's Desert Bluffs. _All_ the houses are covered in blood. Honestly, it's quite charming when you get used to it."

"…No, Kevin, it is not charming. It is _hideous_."

"For the most part it is, but the way it glitters in the sunrise is sometimes so…" Carlos starts out, then realises what he's saying, blushes, and shuts up. But just for a second, at the back of his mind, he's sure he can hear a soft, echoing song…

"Either way," Kevin goes on, pulling the conversation round, "if I recall, Lawrence makes a lot of trips out into the desert, usually in the early morning. No one knows quite why – arcane rites of some sort would be my guess – but he's done it for years and Strex has never taken issue, so they won't be paying any attention to him. If I meet up with him out there tomorrow morning…"

"…He can get you into town under the radar," Naomi completes, with a smile. "By that point, I should have had a chance to speak to some more of my contacts, hide the necessary bodies, and work out precisely where my sister is holding yours."

"I'm going to be honest with you, Naomi, this is a bit messed up," Kevin points out.

"No, Kevin, what you did at the 2006 Strexcorp Company Picnic was a bit messed up," Naomi replies. "This is borderline _normal_."

"…What did you do at the 2006 Strexcorp Company Picnic?" Cecil apparently can't help asking.

Kevin, despite everything, gives a wistful little grin. "I don't remember all that much of it," he admits.

"And _I'm_ not at liberty to discuss it due to the non-disclosure agreement," Naomi adds. "Needless to say… we had to make that ritual illegal. And unknowable."

" _But I still know it_ ," Kevin stage-whispers, whilst Naomi pretends not to hear.

There's an odd silence. The distraction may have lifted Kevin's mood a little, but he still looks like he's one step away from summoning Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty and telling him to go wild.

"I guess… I'm going back to Desert Bluffs in the morning," Kevin says.

"…You mean _we're_ going to Desert Bluffs in the morning," Cecil replies, expression resolute.

Kevin grips his double's arm. "Cecil… I can't ask you to come with me," he says, voice deadly serious. "I can't ask either of you," he goes on, looking at Carlos. "I can't _let_ either of you. This is my fight. My family. My _fault_. And I won't risk losing either of you."

"And the Battle of Night Vale was _our_ fight," Cecil points out, firm but gentle. "It was our fight, but you still nearly _died_ in it. Even if there was nothing else – and there is a _lot_ else – we'd still owe you for that."

"He's right," Carlos adds. "You saved our lives. What kind of boyfriends would we be if we let you go off and face this on your own?"

"The _alive_ kind," Kevin whispers, and the look in his eyes makes Carlos' chest ache. He sounds… like he did last night. Like a man haunted by a past he can't get away from, and can't quite live without.

"Don't write us off just yet," Cecil says. "We can do this. Plus this is for your _sister_ , who you've carefully never mentioned, but who I am assuming is _my_ sister's double?"

"…Yes," Kevin answers.

"And you never thought to tell us–"

"I thought I'd never see her again!" Kevin exclaims, looking on the point of tears. "I only hoped that, by not drawing attention to her, I'd give her the freedom to make it clear to everyone that she thinks I'm a traitor and a maniac and thereby avoid this _exact_ situation from happening."

"You wanted her to _disown_ you?" Cecil whispers.

Kevin nods. "If that's what it took to keep her and Gillian safe."

"You're insane!"

"Don't you think I know that?" Kevin replies, voice cracking. "I betrayed _Strexcorp_. I betrayed Strexcorp very, very publicly, a short time before _my_ demon _killed_ their CEO. And I did it all because I had fallen catastrophically in love with a pair of _Night Valeans!_ "

He turns and walks a couple of paces away, wrapping both arms around himself. Cecil stares after him, looking very much like he's just been hit, and Carlos can only stare between them for a long moment, trying to work out what to do. Eventually, he moves over to Kevin and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"We're going to get her back," he says, very softly. "All three of us. We're going to Desert Bluffs in the morning, and we're going to get your sister back. And your niece. And… I'm assuming there's no one else?"

Kevin shakes his head, though doesn't turn. "No," he replies, voice unnaturally flat. "No. Just them."

"All right, then," Carlos says. "There we go. And you don't have to do this alone. OK?"

Kevin nods. "OK."

Carlos tugs on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn, and after another moment the man relents and does so. He drops his arms, looking at them with far too many unspoken words in his eyes, but doesn't give voice to any of them.

"You should listen to the lovely scientist," Naomi points out, not unkindly, having watched this exchange without interrupting. "He's smarter than you."

"He's smarter than most people I know," Kevin replies, managing the barest flicker of a smile. He rubs a hand over his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then says, "OK. OK. So. Naomi, you head ho– …back to Desert Bluffs and start talking to your contacts. Tell Lawrence we'll meet him at 7am out at that place he goes to. I know the one."

Naomi nods. "Sounds like a plan. I'll make some excuses around the middle of the day and meet up with you then, to tell you what I've found out. Then we can decide what to do next."

"Maybe don't bring the helicopter that time, though," Cecil suggests. "It's a bit conspicuous."

"I'll try to resist the urge," Naomi answers, dryly. "I could just go for the chariot pulled by flaming horses…"

"You have a _chariot_ pulled by _flaming horses_?" Cecil exclaims.

"Sadly not," Naomi replies. "But wouldn't that just be _so_ cool? Perhaps I should talk Lauren into getting us one."

"There is something very wrong with you…" Cecil mutters.

"There's nothing wrong with me," Naomi tells him. "I'm from Desert Bluffs. It's a _cultural_ thing."

"…But _are_ you, though?" Carlos interjects, suddenly, as something else crosses his mind.

Naomi headtilts. "Am I what?"

"Are you actually from Desert Bluffs?"

This gets him several looks of confusion, and not just from Naomi. "Of course," she replies. "Born and raised. Same as my mother."

 _Aha_. "And your father? Because when I spoke to him, before the Battle of Night Vale, he confirmed my suspicion that he – and the rest of the Management Board – weren't from around here."

This makes Naomi smile just a little. "Oh, you are sharp, aren't you? Yes, you're quite right. My father and the other four members of the board came to Desert Bluffs in 1953, and bought out a tiny local company called the Strex Corporation. They rebranded it Strexcorp Synernists Inc and started the process of expanding it into something rather… larger. Shortly afterwards, he married my mother, and later on they had Lauren, and then me. Heirs to the empire, and all that."

"…Wait a moment," Carlos says, thinking again. "You say your father first came to Desert Bluffs in 1953? Even if he'd only been twenty at the time – and I'm guessing he wasn't that young – it would have made him eighty-one when he died. And Naomi… that man did _not_ look eighty-one. _Forty_ -one, maybe. _Fifty_ -one at a push. But not _eighty_ -one."

Naomi smiles more. "Well, as you say… he wasn't from around here," she replies.

"Then… where was he from?" Cecil asks.

"Somewhere else," is all Naomi will say in response to this.

Carlos can only wonder how much of this Kevin already knows.

" _Well_ ," Naomi goes on, in a polished, pulling-the-conversation-together tone, "I had better be heading off before your Secret Police try to shoot down my helicopter with that… what even _was_ that thing?"

"That was the piñata," Cecil replies.

"…Piñata," Naomi repeats. "I… see. Well. That. And I'll meet the three of you tomorrow at Lawrence Lavene's place."

Kevin nods. "Indeed you will. And… Naomi… thanks for this. I know you're taking a huge risk just being here."

Naomi bats at him. "Oh, don't you get all misty-eyed on me," she replies. "I don't want a repeat of the _Notebook_ incident."

Cecil grins. "The ' _Notebook_ incident'?" he echoes.

Kevin gives him a flat look. "Let's just say that Naomi is not allowed to pick the movies anymore."

Sometimes it's best not to ask.

***

They make sure Naomi gets safely out of town, to meet up with her helicopter, before setting off home. Kevin is quiet as they head back to where Carlos left his car – half-abandoned on the roadside – and Carlos finds himself at a loss as to what to say.

What _can_ he say? The man gave up everything for them, and now it sounds like his family is going to pay for it. And the only chance they have involves…

…Carlos doesn't want to think about it. Doesn't want to even consider what it means to be going back to _that_ place. Since he left, over two and a half years ago, he's hardly even been able to _think_ about it without mentally – and sometimes physically – recoiling in horror. And the only time he's seen it since – that night he, Cecil and Old Woman Josie escaped from the Strexcorp facility that defied spacetime – he was more terrified by the sight than he knew how to process.

He remembers it, though. Remembers it like it was yesterday. Like he's still standing there, on that hillside, looking out at the city vista: Desert Bluffs, glowing blood-red in the darkness, with that soft siren's song calling out, calling to _him_.

Calling him _back_.

No.

 _No_.

…And if it's like this for him, what must it be like for Kevin?

Carlos can only imagine. But what he imagines is bad enough.

***

It's late.

The three of them are lying in bed, curled together, with Kevin in the middle. The closeness is helping, but none of them has said much all evening, and now the silence is starting to hurt.

"…I don't regret any of it, you know," Kevin says, finally. "And if I had to do it all again… I would. Without hesitation. The only thing I'd do differently is warn Kirsten in advance. But the rest… the same. Exactly the same."

"Even… the part where you almost died?" Cecil asks, softly.

" _Especially_ the part where I almost died. That was what made you like me."

"I liked you before that."

"Well, OK, that was what made you _admit_ you liked me."

"…Can we maybe stop talking about the part where you almost died?" Carlos interjects.

"Sorry," Kevin concedes. "I mean it, though. These last few weeks have been… more wonderful than I ever dared hope. And that night you first brought me home… I wouldn't swap that for _anything_."

This makes them both hold onto him tighter.

"It's going to be fine," Cecil insists. "We'll go to Desert Bluffs, get your sister and your niece out, and then bring them here. They'll be safe in Night Vale."

There's an odd little silence.

"I love you, you know," Kevin says. "Both of you. More than I can put into words."

"We know," Carlos replies, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "We love you too. And Cecil's right. It's going to be OK."

And as to that last part… Carlos can only hope he sounds more convinced than he feels.

***

Carlos wakes up in the middle of the night… and the instant he does, he knows something is wrong. He's lying there, in the dark, curled comfortably against Cecil… but when he fell asleep, Kevin was between them.

And the other man isn't here now.

The fear sets in, and – knowing that checking the back garden isn't going to cut it this time – Carlos gently nudges Cecil awake.

"Cecil," he says, urgently. "Cecil, Kevin's gone."

"…What?" Cecil murmurs, blinking up at Carlos in confusion.

"Kevin's _gone_ ," Carlos repeats.

Cecil's mind obviously snaps to full awareness all at once, and he immediately sits up. "Have you checked the garden?" he asks.

"Not yet," Carlos replies. "But he won't be there."

And he is – sadly – quite right. There's no sign of Kevin in the garden, or anywhere else in the house, and when they look out the front…

"…His car's not here," Cecil says. "He…"

"I should have known he'd do this," Carlos manages, trying to focus through the ever-building terror. "I should have realised, when he backed down so easily yesterday… I should have known. He's gone to Desert Bluffs without us."

"The man is a maniac!" Cecil exclaims. "He's going to get himself _killed_ … or _worse_ …"

They hold onto each other at that, wrapping each other in close, and Carlos can feel how much Cecil is shaking. How much they both are.

"What are we going to do?" Carlos manages, finally.

"The only thing we can do," Cecil replies, resolute and terrified at the same time. "We have to go after him."

"I never wanted to see that place again," Carlos says. "Ever. And now…"

"I know. I know. But we have to do this."

"Of course we have to do this. We can't leave him."

"He's still going to be in _significant_ amounts of trouble when we catch up with him."

Carlos headtilts. "And how effectively has that worked in the past?"

"…Well, not very," Cecil concedes. "But it's the _principle_ of the thing."

There's a pause, and they stare at each other for a moment.

"We're really doing this, then?" Cecil says, voice heavy. "We're really going…"

"Yes," Carlos replies, resolute. "We're going to Desert Bluffs."


	3. Building A Religion

_We are building a religion_  
 _We're making a brand_  
 _We're the only ones to turn to_  
 _When your castles turn to sand_

~ Cake: _'Comfort Eagle'_

***

They don't know how much of a head start Kevin has, and there's always the hope that they might be able to intercept him in transit. With this in mind, they set out along what they think is the most likely route he'd take, driving deep into the darkness of the desert.

But there's no sign of their wayward boyfriend. Either he's taken a different route, or he's too far ahead of them.

Eventually – not daring to go any further by road – they pull over. Cecil parks his car in the cover of a low outcrop of rock, and then they continue on foot, staying close together in the dark, heading in the direction of the ominous red glow coming from beyond the brink of the next hill.

The humming is already impossible to miss. Carlos tries not to mention it, tries to just push it to the back of his mind, but the more he tries _not_ to think about it, the more he _does_ … and the more that hum blends into something more distinct…

"…Tell me you can hear it?" he asks, finally.

"You mean the humming?" Cecil replies. "Yes, I can hear it. Just softly, on the edge of my awareness, but… it's there."

"What does it sound like?"

"Just… indistinct humming. Deep, like… like a rapid heartbeat."

"You… can't hear the _song_?"

Cecil stops walking and immediately turns to look at him, eyes wide in the dimness of the night. "Are you OK?" he asks. "I mean, beyond the obvious."

Carlos shakes his head. "I can hear it," he whispers. "It wants me back. And I… Cecil… you need to promise me something. You need to promise you won't let it get hold of me again."

"Carlos… you're as terrified by the place as I am," Cecil reminds him, and he's quite right. "No matter what it sounds like… you're a _scientist_. You know, _rationally_ , how bad being there is. Hold on to that."

Carlos steps in closer and wraps both arms around Cecil. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he whispers.

"And you'll never have to find out," Cecil replies.

They keep walking, hand in hand, until they reach the brink of the next hill, and… there it is, spread out ahead of them, glittering deep red in the night.

 _Desert Bluffs_.

Just _looking_ at it hurts – and not just the emotional pain of all the memories connected with the place, oh no. The pain is _physical_ , an ache in the chest and a lurch in the stomach, and a pressure at the back of his eyes… the same way it felt to look at the light that was the Smiling God…

"Can you… still remember your way around?" Cecil asks, voice unnaturally level and quiet.

Carlos manages a nod. "I think so. It's been a long time, but… I think so."

"OK. So. Where do we think Kevin's actually gone?"

"…Put yourself in his shoes," Carlos says. "Where would _you_ go?"

"To my sister's house," Cecil answers at once. "Even… even if I knew she wasn't there, I guess I'd be hoping to pick up on some kind of clue."

"All right, then," Carlos replies. "Then that's where we'll start. I think I can remember where it is…"

Desert Bluffs isn't exactly small, and it takes them the best part of an hour to get properly into town. And it is not a walk that Carlos enjoys. The further in they go, the worse it gets: blood on every surface, viscera hanging strewn on the semi-skeletal trees like some hideous parody of Christmas tinsel, and more than a few fences that are definitely made out of bones.

"…This… this is…" Cecil tries, after some time spent staring in horror at what they're seeing. "I mean, it's… How did you even manage to _live_ here?"

"I… I honestly don't know," Carlos answers, voice hollow. "I started out by telling myself it was for science – and it was – but eventually… eventually…"

"…It was for Kevin?" Cecil asks, quietly.

Carlos nods. "Don't… don't hate me for that…"

"Of course I don't," Cecil insists, gripping his hand. "I love him too, remember? But I am immensely glad we got him out of this place…"

They keep walking. On the horizon, a soft glow is starting to flare up, heralding the onset of dawn, though Desert Bluffs itself is still quiet as the grave.

"Also… why is there no one around?" Cecil asks, after another moment. "I mean, I know it's the middle of the night, but you'd always get the odd person or car at this time in Night Vale. But here…"

"…It's always like this," Carlos replies. "People don't go out late. It's… safer. Sometimes there are… incidents."

"Should we be worried?" Cecil now asks, dropping his voice.

"I don't think I could be more worried than I am already."

"…Good point."

But before Carlos can say another word, there's a sudden flurry of movement from around the next corner and a group of people burst into view: men and women, all wearing dark suits and bright orange ties, and carrying long, thin silver knives.

Carlos feels like his heart is going to stop. It's a team of Strexcorp enforcers.

"Oh merciful Einstein, no," he whispers, as Cecil immediately tries to step in front of him – though this proves difficult because the enforcers quickly have them surrounded.

"How did they find us so fast?" Cecil wonders, softly.

"…They knew we were coming," Carlos replies, understanding even though he doesn't quite know why just yet… though that isn't a surprise, given how hard it is to concentrate through the mind-numbing terror.

"Don't move," says the lead enforcer, a tall and obsidian-eyed man with dark hair. "Surrender. There's no need for this to get unpleasant… unless you resist."

"We've done nothing wrong," Cecil says. "What do you want with us?"

"You're Night Valean," the lead enforcer declares. "Don't think we don't know who you are. We're _Strex_. We _know_. We are _everything_. And you… are going to regret trespassing in _our_ town."

"That is _rich_ coming from you!" Cecil retorts, fiercely, which would be equal parts adorable and mind-blowingly hot were it not, first and foremost, an extraordinarily dangerous idea.

"I don't have time for this," the lead enforcer replies, gesturing at them with his knife. "The morning commute will be in full swing in an hour and we can't have you interfering with the day's productivity." He glances at the closer of his associates. "Take them to HQ. The boss will want to speak to them."

And oh, but that _cannot_ be good.

***

It isn't. They're thrown somewhat unceremoniously into the back of a black van, and when the doors re-open, a short while later, there's a huge skyscraper looming over them.

It's a long time since Carlos has seen it this close up, and he's certainly never been inside. But this is it, the head and the heart of the beast: Strexcorp headquarters. The tower itself is blocky and tall, and looking at it _hurts_ in a strange way, as if some part of it doesn't quite make logical sense but his brain can't pin down precisely why.

Flanked by four enforcers, they're led into the building and through a wide and brightly-lit entrance hall that's bedecked with the Strexcorp emblem. And though there's no blood inside, somehow that feels _more_ threatening, not less. Soon, the doors to a broad, dark-panelled elevator are opened, and they all step in. Once the doors have closed, the lead enforcer pulls out his knife – which makes Carlos tense because that is really not something you want to watch someone doing in an enclosed space – and lightly nicks his own index finger, pressing the blood to the button for the top floor. It vanishes almost immediately – probably best not to ask how – and the elevator starts to ascend.

A bloodlock. Wonderful. Something else about this place that Carlos would rather forget.

"It's going to be OK," Cecil whispers to Carlos, gripping his hand again.

Carlos is not at all sure that it is. Right now, he's not at all sure of anything. How did the enforcers find them so fast?

Something is wrong. More so than the obvious. Something is very, very wrong.

Eventually the doors slide open and they step out into a reception hall. Like the main hall far below, it's wide and brightly-lit, if smaller. At its centre is a broad, impeccably neat desk with a business-suited woman seated at a computer terminal, hands-free earpiece on one ear.

The phone rings, and she taps the earpiece. "Ms Hartley-Mallard's office, good morning. Yes. Yes, that's right, it's happening shortly before noon. No, no he's not with us anymore, he was given a severance package yesterday. Yes, shocking, I know. Some people just do not have proper respect for the company ethos. Yes. Of course. Of course, I'll tell her. You have a great day, now…"

And she hangs up, before looking over at them, and instantly – obviously – realising who she's suddenly faced with. "Oh," she says, standing up and fastidiously smoothing her jacket down. "I'll let Ms Hartley-Mallard know you're here."

"Thanks, Abigail," says the lead enforcer, giving her a very friendly smile. "You're a gem."

Abigail the receptionist blushes and turns, hurrying through the ominous double-doors behind her, and returns a moment later, holding one of the doors open. "You can go on in," she says.

And in they go. The room beyond… well. It looks very much like it's been designed to be unnecessarily ominous. There's a large, central desk on which sits a sleek computer terminal, the obligatory Newton's Cradle, and a mug reading 'World's Best Sister', which seems oddly out of place. A high-backed chair is behind the desk – mercifully empty – and beyond it is a floor-to-ceiling window offering a terrifyingly good view out over Desert Bluffs. The sun is properly rising now, filling the room with golden light, and meaning that the room's one occupant is almost silhouetted where she stands, staring over at them.

"Well, well, well," says Lauren Hartley-Mallard, pacing a little closer with a smile on her face that makes Carlos seriously consider the relative merits of trying to fling himself out the window. "You two just do _not_ know when to quit, do you? Ordinarily I'd find that impressive – such productivity! – but given how much _trouble_ you've caused, I'm afraid the adulations will have to wait for another time."

The enforcers back off – retreating to stand by the door – meaning that Carlos and Cecil are left suddenly vulnerable in the centre of that over-large room. Neither one quite daring to move, they keep hold of each other's hand, staying shoulder-to-shoulder.

"So here you stand, Cecil Palmer and Carlos… just what _is_ your surname anyway?"

Carlos is about to answer, but Lauren merely waves a hand at him. "Carlos the scientist," she says, idly. "We'll just go with that. By the time all of this is over you'll be little more than a footnote to history, and no one will care. But that's later! Right now I just cannot tell you how _delighted_ I am that you chose today of all days to come here." She holds out her hands. "Welcome to Desert Bluffs!"

"What exactly are you playing at, Lauren?" Cecil insists, obviously trying to sound as forthright as he can. "Why have your people arrested us?"

"I would have thought that was obvious, Cecil," Lauren replies. "You were trespassing in Desert Bluffs, and you are known enemies of Strexcorp. And we can't have troublemakers like you just wandering around doing as you please. This isn't Night Vale, Cecil. We have _rules_ here. We have _structure_. We wanted to share all that with you, but you and your town… well, you weren't very friendly, were you?"

"You abducted and murdered our citizens!" Cecil exclaims. "You effectively had us living under a police state!"

Lauren gives him a very flat look; the kind you might give a child who is trying to insist the moon is made of cheese. "And what do you think you were living under before we came along?" she asks, hands on her hips. "Your 'Secret Police' – who seem to have misunderstood the word 'secret' – had free reign to do as they pleased! Your elections were all rigged and your citizens were regularly imprisoned to make sure their families did as they were told."

"Well… yes, but… that's just normal!" Cecil insists. "It's how we've lived for decades. We like it that way!"

"And all we did was come along and try to make your lives more efficient," Lauren replies, clapping a hand over her heart. "Bright. Hopeful. Productive. Your ethos was so close to ours, Cecil. We thought you'd _understand_. But no, you had to call for a revolution live on air, incite all your little friends to rebellion, and encourage that… that _child_ to…"

"Don't you dare call Tamika Flynn's motivations into question," Cecil throws back. "That _young woman_ is a hero."

"That _girl_ is a dangerous rebel," Lauren retorts. "A dangerous rebel who needs extensive psychological help. Psychological help that Strexcorp would have been all-too-happy to provide."

"I think we've had quite enough of your 'help' for one lifetime," Carlos cuts in.

Lauren headtilts. "Really? You don't think you could use a teensy bit more? You kind of look like you might need it…"

She's advancing closer, and – apparently throwing caution to the wind – Cecil does now step in front of Carlos more than a little. "Get to the point, Lauren," he insists. "Why have you brought us here? Because if it's just so we can watch you chew the scenery…"

"'Chew the scenery'?" she repeats, looking less than amused. "Just what are you implying?"

"I'm implying that you're standing in the middle of an office that looks like it came straight from the Big Book of Villain Lairs," Cecil says, obviously going for broke. "And any moment, I'm confident you're going to start monologuing. Either that, or you'll insist on showing us the shark pit…"

"You want to see the shark pit now?" Lauren asks. "I was going to save that for later."

"There's _actually_ a _shark pit?!_ "

"Oh yes. My dad built this place, you know. He was a very creative man."

Cecil facepalms. "We don't want to know," he concedes. "Just cut to the chase. I'm not paid to listen to you anymore. Though, to be fair, I wasn't exactly _paid_ to listen to you before, either…"

Lauren glowers at him for a second before her over-bright expression returns. "Well, then. If you're all done with our little tête-à-tête, maybe I can get to the point?"

This gets her an equal glower in return, from both of them, but Cecil manages not to rise to the baiting this time.

"Wonderful," Lauren goes on, clasping her hands together. "I think perhaps now might be just the _perfect_ point for a little reunion."

Carlos feels his stomach lurch in horror… and maybe on some level he understands what's about to happen before it does. Before his mind can actually process the realisation.

"You can come in now!" Lauren calls, brightly, and – at once – there's footsteps off to the right. There's a side-door there, which has been ajar all this time, but which Carlos has been paying little mind to because he had more immediate problems. But now… now that door represents _all_ of his problems.

It swings open, and a figure walks in: a figure with a familiar silver knife holstered at his back, and a smile on his face that extends all the way to his obsidian-dark eyes.

Carlos feels like he's been stabbed squarely in the chest. And from the way Cecil's breath catches audibly, he isn't the only one.

The man smiling over at them is Kevin.

"Well, hi there," he says, brightly. "I'm so glad you made it! I knew you'd catch up eventually. You're both so _industrious_."

"Kevin?" Carlos whispers, horrified, because he knows the look in the other man's eyes. Knows it… and had hoped never to see it again. "Kevin, what's going on?"

"Only the best day _ever_ ," the other man declares, gesturing widely to the room – and the day – in general. "You're never going to believe this… but they took me back! Strexcorp _never_ takes people back after they've been fired, but they said they'd let bygones be bygones if I helped them with a big project they've got going on. And I said yes! Aren't they just so _benevolent?_ "

"What have you done to him?" Carlos exclaims, feeling sudden fury in his heart – amidst the terror – as he moves around Cecil and advances on Lauren.

Lauren holds up a hand – which it takes Carlos a moment to realise is actually a gesture to tell the enforcers to stand down – and continues to smile at him. "Oh, we haven't done anything," she insists. "All we did was welcome _home_ one of Strexcorp's _favourite_ employees."

"They sure did!" Kevin agrees, brightly. "And I am just _so_ glad you're here too. I know it's only been a few hours, but you have no idea how much I've missed you both."

"'Both'?" Lauren repeats, glancing sideways at him. "So it's true then. All three of you really are..?"

"Oh yes," Kevin tells her.

"How does that even work?"

" _Amazingly_."

Lauren gives an odd little sigh. "I never stood a chance with you, did I?"

"I'm afraid not," Kevin replies, with a sensitive look. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I've _always_ valued you as a colleague and as a _friend_ , but when it comes to matters of the heart… I'm only into guys. These two guys, in fact."

He starts to move closer and – without a second thought, and before the other man can try to do the same – Carlos steps in front of Cecil. His heart is racing so hard, it must be echoing loud enough for everyone to hear, but he stands his ground, trying desperately to work out what to do.

What have they done to Kevin? How have they made him like… like _this_ again, and so _fast?_

"Oh, Carlos," Kevin says, in that tone that – even now – makes Carlos' breath catch. "Carlos, Carlos, _lovely_ Carlos, you really are _so_ brave. It's one of my favourite things about you… the way you can do that whole vulnerable-scientist-thing, and yet, when it counts, you're as fearsome as the _strongest_ enforcer."

"Kevin, this isn't you," Carlos insists, hoping against hope that he can break through whatever these orange-clad, blood-obsessed _maniacs_ have done to his boyfriend. "I don't know what they did to you, but you need to fight it."

"They didn't do _anything_ to me," Kevin replies. "Strexcorp doesn't _do_ things to people. They… _we_ … aren't like that. All they did was take me back where I _belong_."

"But you _don't_ belong here," Cecil now says, pressing in behind Carlos and putting a hand on his hip, which feels like pretty much the only grounding Carlos has right now. "You left them. You're free. You're… you're with _us_."

"…Can you still hear the song?" Carlos cuts in, before Kevin can speak, staring at the man with as much emotional weight as he can muster. "You remember, you told me about it? The song, in your head. The way Desert Bluffs sounds, all the time."

"Sure I can," Kevin replies, as if this was obvious. "We all hear it."

"What does it sound like?"

Kevin closes his eyes for a moment. "It sounds like angels," he whispers, voice bordering on rapture. "Angels, singing softly inside my head, murmuring words of hope and productivity."

"No," Carlos insists. "No, it doesn't. Remember what you told me, Kevin. Remember what you said. Stop hearing what you think it sounds like and hear it the way it _really_ is…"

Kevin looks like he's about to try closing his eyes and listening again, but – before he can – Lauren interjects. "I think we've had quite enough of that," she says, with more than a little forced brightness in her tone. "Perhaps now would be a good time to… how did you put it, Cecil? _Cut to the chase_."

"Oh, oh, can I tell them?" Kevin asks, bouncing on his heels.

"Kevin, I was so hoping you would," Lauren replies, graciously. "Go right ahead."

"OK, so, guess what?" Kevin starts off, clapping his hands together. "Come on, guess!"

Neither Carlos nor Cecil deigns to say a word, which just makes Kevin look rather put out. "Oh, you two are _no_ fun when you're like this. OK, fine, I'll just tell you: Strexcorp is going back to Night Vale!"

"And how exactly do you expect that to work?" Cecil does now say. "The City Council banned Strex personnel from entering the town. The Secret Police will shoot on sight."

"Oh, Cecil, we're not just going to wander in like last time," Kevin replies, his voice starting to drop to something rather more worrying. "That was the _friendly_ approach, and the friendly approach… well, that didn't exactly work, did it? So instead… we're going to have to try the _firm_ approach. It'll still technically be _friendly_ , of course… I mean, we're Strex, we're _always_ friendly! But it will have to be just a little more… _decisive_ than last time."

"Define 'decisive'," Cecil borderline-growls, and Carlos _really_ needs to concentrate because the two of them are _very_ distracting when they get like this, mortal peril or no.

"You know, _decisive?_ " Kevin repeats, somewhat unhelpfully. "As in… unstoppable? Unpreventable? _Permanent?_ It's going to take a little time to prepare for, though… but the first big step is happening today, and _you_ both get to bear witness to it. And _I_ get to help with it! Isn't that so _exciting?_ "

"Forgive us if we're not jumping for joy," Cecil throws back.

"Oh, you will be," Kevin replies, in that calm, certain tone that makes Carlos' blood go a little cold. "Give me time… and you will be."

"There is, first, the small matter of… interruptions," Lauren chips in, brightly. "As Kevin so correctly pointed out, today is a _very_ important step in our operation. We can't have anything jeopardising its success… such as anyone _else_ you may have brought with you. Anyone _else_ you may have told you were coming here."

…Anyone _else_. Well, darn it. That would have been a good idea. Carlos tries very, very hard not to give away anything in his expression, but the truth of the matter is… yes. Running out here without telling anyone may have been more than a tiny bit stupid.

But Lauren and Kevin don't need to know that.

"You know," Lauren goes on, apparently on a roll, "all those _lovely_ friends you have, like that… _child_ who steals helicopters, or the old woman who worked out how to travel using the clever doors, or that conspiracy-theorist with all his little internet-friends…"

" _Truth-seeker_ ," Cecil cuts in.

"Hm?" Lauren says, idly.

"He's a _truth-seeker_."

Things must be bad if Cecil is defending _Steve Carlsberg's_ honour.

"Well, him," Lauren concedes, waving a hand. "We need to know who else you've told you were coming here and who else you've brought. And where we can find them before they cause unproductive _chaos_ in _our_ town."

Neither Carlos nor Cecil speaks. Or, indeed, blinks. They both understand – without words – how important it is that they play this right. That they don't give away the fact that they have, in reality, come out here without telling a single other soul.

When Carlos stops and thinks about it… it's a wonder either of them is still alive.

"Kevin?" Lauren now says, in a voice suddenly laden with danger.

"Yes, Lauren?"

"Take Carlos into my Room of Questioning and find out precisely who else they've told."

" _Gladly_."

Before Carlos can even process what this means, there's a sudden eruption of movement. Kevin launches forward, dragging Carlos away from Cecil, at the same time as two of the enforcers dart from the far wall to grab hold of Cecil and pull him back. The other man's anguished shouts of, "Carlos! _Carlos!_ " seem almost distant, as if they're happening in some other life; as if this whole world is collapsing in the face of such intense horror.

It's all too much. Much too much. And it all stays as little more than a haze of confusion and terror for the few seconds it takes for Kevin to pull Carlos into that side room – which is empty, and grey, and ominous – kicking the door shut and then slamming Carlos somewhat roughly into the nearest wall.

The tip of that ever-present knife is pressed against his clavicle… and the whole world sharpens again. Cecil's shouts are still distant, but that's because there's a door between them now, and the immediate place Carlos finds himself…

Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

And don't tell him anything.

…Oh, this is not going to end well.

"My, my, this is familiar, isn't it?" Kevin says, dark eyes fixed on Carlos.

"You do seem to have a certain penchant for it," Carlos answers, fighting to keep his voice level.

Kevin smiles. "Perhaps that's because you are so very, _very_ receptive to it. I can feel the way you're shaking, Carlos. Feel the way your breath keeps catching. You won't last five minutes."

"Kevin… whatever they've done to you… you have to fight it," Carlos pleads, going for broke. "Come back to us. Don't let them win."

"Carlos, Carlos," Kevin whispers, " _we_ have _already_ won. We're _Strex_. It's what we do. But this doesn't have to be unpleasant for you, or for Cecil. You know how much I care about you. How _badly_ I need you both. Co-operate. Stay with me. This can end well for all of us."

"Don't you remember why you came here in the first place?" Carlos says. "Your sister. Kirsten. Strex took her. Remember?"

"Oh, I know that," Kevin replies, idly. "It's nothing to worry about. They just needed to have a little chat with her. They haven't found my niece yet, though. Gillian. I think… I think someone else has her, but… but I can't remember who it… well, never mind. We can worry about that later. Right now… I need you to tell me who else came here with you. Which of your old friends from the resistance we have to worry about. Tell me, Carlos. Tell me and we can keep this civil…"

Despite the fear, this does yield one interesting piece of information: Kevin doesn't seem to remember anything about Naomi's involvement. And that means that maybe she _isn't_ the one who sold them out – as Carlos has been suspecting since they were grabbed – although he still plans to have a very careful conversation with the woman.

Assuming he ever sees her again.

In the meantime… he has more immediate issues. Such as the way Kevin is now tracing the edge of his knife along the side of Carlos' neck… and by _Einstein_ , that should not feel so… so…

…Focus!

"Come on, now," Kevin whispers, leaning in so very close, the heat from his body intoxicating and wonderful and so reminiscent of times that Carlos really needs not to be thinking about when he's… when… he's…

He can hear it again, on the edge of his mind, not just a humming but a _song_ … a song like angels, singing in beautiful chorus; soft, indistinct words of such hope and possibility…

"You can hear it, can't you?" Kevin asks, his eyes lighting up all the more. "I know you can. I knew you would. Once it's there in your head, it never goes away. Just listen. _Listen_. Listen… and it will all be OK."

The gentle murmur of his words begins to melt into the slow echo of the song… and Carlos can feel his mind starting to slip sideways. He tries to fight it at first, but… it feels so good. So very good. The sensations mingle with the gentle brush of the knife against his skin, with the way it tugs lightly against his shirt as Kevin traces it across his chest.

"That's it," he can hear Kevin whispering. "That's it. I knew you'd understand. You were one of us, once. Desert Bluffs was your home. You belong here. Just relax. Relax. You're safe with me…"

Carlos feels like he's going to topple forwards; topple forwards into some unseen abyss from which there can be no return, except that Kevin is still holding him up. Kevin, with his wonderful voice, and his dark, piercing eyes, and his beautiful, beautiful silver knife…

The other man kisses him, warm and slow and lovely, albeit with the blade still between them, and that's… that's so very familiar too. So very familiar and enticing and…

The song is getting louder. More distinct. More _resonant_.

The kiss breaks, but Kevin doesn't back off, staying little more than a breath away… and that's good. That's so good. Carlos doesn't want him to go. Carlos needs him to stay right here.

"Who else did you tell about this? Who else did you bring with you?" Kevin asks, softly.

"…No one…" Carlos hears himself reply.

"You're lying to me."

"…I'm not. I'm not. I promise. We came alone." The words are just slipping out. But… but that's all right. Right? This is how it's supposed to be.

This is what Desert Bluffs wants.

"No one else knows?"

"No one else knows," Carlos repeats.

"Good," Kevin whispers. "Good. Now wasn't that just so easy..?"

He presses in and kisses Carlos again, tilting his head back with the flat of the blade, and it feels so amazing that Carlos lets any lingering traces of resistance fade away. He doesn't need them. He's where he belongs.

"You're so beautiful," Kevin tells him, slipping the knife away so as to cup Carlos' face in both hands. "I'm so glad you're here. So very, very glad…"

Another kiss, deeper and firmer this time, hands stroking down over Carlos' chest, resting on his waist, pulling him in so they're pressed bodily together, and… _oh_ , this is just… just… _right_.

"We have to go back through to Lauren, now," Kevin says, as the kiss breaks, voice still soft and sure. "Cecil isn't going to be happy, but it will be OK. He'll come around eventually. It's harder for him, because he's never lived here before, but you… you understand now, don't you?"

Carlos nods. "Yes," he whispers. He does understand.

Kevin smiles. "Good," he says. "Good." He steps back, opening the door and gently guiding Carlos through into Lauren's office once again.

The woman herself is still here, standing in what looks like furious conversation with Cecil, who is being held by the two taller enforcers. He freezes as the door opens, eyes immediately finding Carlos, and a fresh look of horror fills his expression.

Lauren puts her hands on her hips, eyes flicking between Kevin and Carlos. "Well?" she asks. She seems oddly disappointed about something, but it's hard to guess what it could be.

"They came alone," Kevin answers. "They didn't tell anyone."

"Seriously?" Lauren replies, now clearly a little surprised.

"Seriously. I think they were trying to be noble. It's one of the things I love about them both."

"Well, well. I suppose that does make things easier. You're sure he's not lying to you?"

"Oh yes," Kevin tells her, with a smile. "Oh yes, I'm sure."

It's at this point that Cecil finally manages to speak. "What did you _do_ to him?!" he exclaims.

"Nothing, Cecil," Kevin replies. "I'd never hurt our Carlos. You know that. We just… had a little talk. Carlos understands now… don't you?"

"Yes," Carlos says. "Yes, I do. It's going to be OK, Cecil. They won't hurt us. _Kevin_ won't hurt us. We're safe."

"Safe?" Cecil repeats, sounding aghast. " _Safe?!_ Listen to yourself! Carlos… whatever he's done, you have to fight it!"

"There's nothing to fight. Nothing. Just… listen to the song…"

Cecil turns wide, horrified eyes on Kevin. "You _monster_ ," he growls. "How _could_ you?"

"Now, now, Cecil, there's no need for name-calling," Kevin chides. "I've just helped Carlos see the _truth_ of the situation. I promise I'll do the same for you… though it will take rather longer. Don't forget… Carlos used to live in Desert Bluffs. He's far more… receptive to it."

"Much as all this is _extremely_ entertaining to watch," Lauren cuts in, "we do have a teeny little thing called a _schedule_ to be keeping to."

"Oh, of course, my apologies," Kevin says. "Shall we head to the radio station now?"

"Radio station?" Cecil repeats.

"Yes," Kevin replies, with a very bright smile. "I can't wait to get back to the place. I have a _very_ important broadcast to do. But don't worry… you get to come listen! They do still get to come listen, don't they, Lauren?"

"Of course," Lauren says. "Cecil especially. I don't want him to miss a _word_."

Kevin grins. "I'll have one of the enforcers fetch us a car."

"Oh, please, you can use my helicopter," Lauren tells him, graciously. "For something so _important_ , I'd expect nothing less."

"Perfect!" Kevin beams. "Then let's get going!"


	4. Bloodsport

_My mother never told me_  
_Love is just a bloodsport_

~ Sneaker Pimps: _'Bloodsport'_

***

The yellow helicopter soars over Desert Bluffs. Far below, the streets and buildings glitter vivid red in the light of morning, as the people of the town go about their day.

Carlos stares down at it all, mind still in a haze. His brain is trying to push other thoughts through to the fore, but so far none of them will actualise. There's just… this. Just this warm, lovely feeling that runs all the way through him. Kevin is sitting beside him, gripping his hand, and that's lovely too.

Cecil looks a lot less happy. A _lot_ less. He's sitting opposite them, an enforcer on either side of him, and right now he looks like he's contemplating the relative merits of various forms of physical violence.

And that's just not like Cecil. Not like him at all. Things are going to be _much_ better once he relaxes and comes around to Kevin's way of thinking.

…They are, right? Going to be better? Or…

The song in his head shifts just for a second, and Carlos can hear…

…No. No. Just the whispers of angels.

Eventually, the helicopter comes in low, making one last circle around before descending to a smooth halt on the roof of the radio station. They clamber out: Kevin and Carlos, then Cecil with the two enforcers still flanking him. Lauren hasn't come along, so it's just the five of them who head inside, through the upper door from the helipad, to find a familiar face waiting.

"Daniel!" Kevin exclaims, hurrying to shake the other man's hand.

"Ah, Kevin, welcome back," Daniel replies. There's more than a little coolness to his tone, and Carlos tries to focus on why this might be… but he can't quite. "Lauren called ahead. I must say, I'm simply _delighted_ that she's asked you to be the one to start all this off. There's no one else _I'd_ choose."

"I bet there is," Cecil mutters, which makes Daniel glare at him.

"I've been presenting the show, you know," Daniel goes on, steadfastly ignoring Cecil. "Whilst you've been… gone. I've gotten _very_ good at it."

"I can imagine!" Kevin replies, beaming. "You did learn from the best, after all."

"…Kevin, in almost two decades, I learned nothing from you," Daniel says, deadpan, as if he can't quite stop himself.

"Oh, I don't mean _me_ ," Kevin says, clapping a hand to his chest. "I mean Cecil! You worked closely with him over in Night Vale. I'm sure you learned a _lot_."

It's hard to know who's glaring more at this point: Cecil or Daniel.

"Well, come along," Daniel says, gesturing them in and deliberately side-stepping the rest of the conversation. "We have a broadcast to do, and we both know how important it is."

"Of course, of course," Kevin agrees.

Giving him one last, wholly unconvinced look, Daniel leads the way down to the broadcast studio. The radio station is one of the places in Desert Bluffs where they very much go for the blood inside _and_ out option on the décor, which means that it's an… odd walk.

But it's going to be fine. Of course it's going to be fine. Kevin said so.

Cecil doesn't look happy. Carlos wishes he could step over and hold onto him, and tell him it will be all right, but he doubts the enforcers would allow it.

When they get to the broadcast studio in question… Cecil goes alarmingly pale. He's been here once before, of course, and Carlos knows… Carlos knows his boyfriend doesn't have fond memories of that day, which is of course ridiculous because…

…OK, does there _need_ to be _this_ much blood..?

Once they're in the studio, Daniel gives Kevin a last, weird look and then heads off, taking his place in the adjoining booth. The two enforcers linger close to Cecil, but Kevin waves at them.

"Out," he says. "Come along, now, both of you. I have a show to do."

"We're supposed to stay with Cecil at all times," one of the two enforcers insists. "Ms Hartley-Mallard's orders."

"And you will be," Kevin insists. "You'll be staying with him from the opposite side of the door."

"I don't think you understand…" the enforcer starts out, but Kevin cuts him off.

"No, I don't think _you_ understand," he says, in his most pleasant tone of voice. "This is my broadcast studio and my show. They stay, and you can listen from outside. And please, don't look at me like that. Have you seen me fight? I'm _more_ than capable of taking care of myself. If Cecil tried something right now, I could floor the two of you _and_ stop him before Daniel even had a chance to get back in here. So kindly step _out_ of my studio before I have to provide you with _encouragement_."

The two enforcers exchange a look. "Fine," one says. "As you wish."

And they both retreat from the room, shutting the door behind them.

" _Much_ better," Kevin says, brightly, clapping his hands together. "Right. Let's do this…"

"You still have a chance to make things right," Cecil implores. "Kevin… whatever they told you… it was a lie. This is not where you belong. Not anymore. We… we _saved_ you…"

"Oh, Cecil," Kevin replies. "I don't doubt your intentions, I really don't. You're one of the noblest people I know. But this _is_ where I belong. This is where I have _always_ belonged. Now… quiet in the room, please. I have a broadcast to do…"

And, within a moment, he's gone live.

_"Light. Bright, brilliant, wonderful light, that spills into every corner, filling the world. Ceaseless, beautiful, it covers each one of us, pulling every secret out into the open and laying them bare for all to see. Welcome to Desert Bluffs."_

_"First of all, yes, listeners, this is indeed Kevin, speaking to you once more. I'm back! I know I've been away for a long time, but I am just_ thrilled _to be with you again. And this was a fortuitous day for my return, because I have the privilege of announcing some major news from our_ beloved _local mega-conglomerate, Strexcorp Synernists Inc. I won't keep you in suspense any longer… today marks the beginning of a new Strex initiative. As you all know, our recent operations over in our sister city of Night Vale came to an abrupt and unplanned conclusion as a result of the actions of a number of_ dangerous _troublemakers. I was there, Desert Bluffs. I was there and I saw what they did."_

He doesn't mention the part where _his_ demon killed Strexcorp's CEO, and that's… that's quite a major omission, isn't it? That's…

…The song is shifting. Something is wrong…

 _"But now Strexcorp is ready to begin its big response, and every one of you gets to help out… isn't that exciting? It will take several days for the process to reach its conclusion, and we need all of you to play your part in helping the greatest city in the world to remain that way. I know everyone in Desert Bluffs already spends the required time each day giving praise to the Smiling God, but for the next week… we need you to do more. We need you to do more and we need you to do it in unison, to maximise its potential; to draw on the power of our wonderful community as a whole. All Strex asks is that each day, at precisely seven-thirty in the morning, you stand outside your home or place of work, raise your arms to the welcoming sun, and concentrate on how much you_ love _your town. It couldn't be easier! Together, we can keep our benevolent employers strong. Together… we are unstoppable. We are infinite. We are_ Strex _."_

His words are so lovely. So… so…

…But as they pour gently through Carlos' mind, mingling with the distant echoes of that song, other words come to the fore. Words that have been emblazoned on Carlos' memory since the day he heard them; since the day he stood in Cecil's radio studio and listened to his boyfriend finally speaking the… truth? Was it the truth?

_"…we have tried to deny it, tried to skirt around the issue, but the fact is clear: Strexcorp is evil. Pure, absolute evil. They come to our town, they invade our lives, they threaten the people we care about…"_

The remembered words burn inside Carlos' head, like a beacon, like a lighthouse atop a distant, desert mountain, guiding him back to… to…

_"…they threaten the people we care about…"_

And the whole world shifts sideways, the song becoming the broken, bloody roar that Carlos knows it really is. He blinks, as if seeing where he is for the first time – as if _realising_ – and it takes him a moment to be able to focus.

But then he can. Then he can and he knows… this is his one chance.

"Cecil!" he shouts. "Cut the power!" And at the same moment – because scientists are _very_ good at multi-tasking – he darts over to the door and locks it, then leans back on it just to make doubly-sure.

For a second, Cecil seems thrown by the sudden change of tack, but once the second has passed he moves as quick as he can, grabbing hold of Kevin and dragging him away from the broadcast table before starting to yank the power from as much of the equipment as possible.

Kevin is not best pleased by this. As the hammering starts on the other side of the door – meaning that Carlos doesn't dare move away from it in case the enforcers manage to get in – Kevin tries to go for Cecil, but the other man is ready for him. They both hit the blood-streaked wall with some force, each trying to pin the other, and Cecil using all his focus to stop Kevin managing to draw that knife…

Only then he does. There's a flash of silver, and Carlos feels the whole world go slow.

He's got to move. If he moves, the enforcers might get the door open. But if he _doesn't_ move…

He moves. With what he hopes is a fearsome yell – and not a slightly terrified squeak – he rushes across the room, grabs Kevin's knife-arm and slams it roughly into the wall, holding on with all his strength.

"Cecil!" he shouts, voice about an octave higher than usual. "Cecil, help!"

The other man is at his side in seconds, and between them they manage to pin Kevin to the wall, holding one arm each. Kevin struggles for a moment but then relents, doubly-so when Carlos manages to extricate the knife from his hand and… oh, why the heck not?

He presses the blade to Kevin's throat. The man goes completely still, staring at him with wide, dark eyes.

"Oh, you tease," he whispers, but it's clear from his voice he knows he's caught, and isn't actually happy about it. "I always wondered what it would be like if we switched places…"

"Just… stop talking for a moment," Carlos insists, as firmly as he can.

"Carlos… are you OK?" Cecil now asks. He looks more than a little shell-shocked.

"I don't know," Carlos admits. "I… he did something to me. I don't… I don't understand what it was, but… Cecil, I am _so_ sorry."

"Don't apologise," Cecil answers. "It's this _place_."

"Oh, Cecil, I'm sure you'll get to like it after a while," Kevin murmurs. He's gone pliant between the two of them, but Carlos is confident that relaxing their grip even a little would be a monumentally bad idea.

"Did we not tell you to shush?" Cecil replies, flatly.

There's another loud bang at the door.

"We don't have long," says Carlos, urgently. "Those enforcers will get in soon – assuming Daniel doesn't break through the booth window first."

On the opposite side of the glass – having watched all this in growing rage – Daniel now seems to be contemplating smashing his way through with his own chair.

"We have to get out of here," Cecil agrees. "Now _you_ ," he adds, glaring at Kevin again, "you try _anything_ and you will find yourself sleeping on the couch for a _week_. Clear?"

"…As the bright light of day…" Kevin concedes, and it would be rather an effective statement if he didn't look like he was enjoying himself _quite_ so much.

Cecil glares for another second, and then they move, hurrying over to the main window, which looks out onto the road. They haul it open and clamber through one by one, which isn't easy when they're trying to keep hold of Kevin, but somehow they manage it just seconds before there's an almighty crash behind them, and the booth window shatters.

"Get _back_ here!" Daniel howls, but he's too late.

They run. Carlos has no idea where they can go, but they need to put as much distance between themselves and the radio station as possible. But they've barely gotten to the closest intersection before a black van swerves out of nowhere and skids to a halt close by, side door sliding open… and revealing two women staring over at them.

And one of the women is Naomi.

"Get in!" she calls, urgently. "For the love of Ozhen'ipleth, _get in!_ "

This is either a trap or a rescue… but the alternative is simply trying to run for it. And Carlos knows they aren't going to get far on their own.

"We have to risk it," he says to Cecil.

"…You're right," Cecil agrees. "You're right."

They drag Kevin over to the van, throw him in, leap in after him, and slam the door shut.

And they're away.

***

It's a long moment before anyone says anything. They lie in a somewhat confused and very much blood-streaked tangle in the back of the van, with Naomi and the other woman staring at them.

Naomi is the first to speak. "Are you _completely_ insane?"

"Us?" Cecil exclaims. "We didn't do anything!"

"I set you up a perfectly secret way to get into town without being spotted, and you opt to ignore my careful planning and march in down the main road!" Naomi counters. "That sounds pretty insane to me!"

"That wasn't our fault!" Carlos protests. "That was Kevin. He ran off in the middle of the night and… and we panicked…"

"And that's another thing," Naomi goes on, now looking over at Kevin, who is staring up at them all with an odd little flicker in his eyes. "Who let Kevin near the Bloodstone?"

"…Near the _what?!_ " Cecil exclaims.

"Uh, the _Bloodstone?_ " says the second woman, as if this should be explanation enough. "Big, shiny red thing in the very centre of town? Clue's in the name?"

At the back of Carlos' head, the broken song shifts once more to the whispers of angels, and he slaps a hand to his temple, trying to get it to stop.

"I think you have some explaining to do," Naomi says, in her very best diplomatic tone.

"So do you," Carlos points out, remembering his promise to himself. "How did Strex find us in the first place? Did you tip them off?"

Naomi claps a hand to her chest. "Wow, you Night Valeans are _really_ paranoid, aren't you? Honestly, I risk everything to help you out and all I get is accusations of betrayal." She grins suddenly. "Which is probably sensible, to be fair, and I'd be impressed if I wasn't also _very_ annoyed. Now let's just get somewhere safe and then we can do the talking part."

"…That isn't a 'no'," Carlos says.

Naomi takes a deep breath, and Carlos wonders if she's counting slowly to ten. "No, Carlos, I did not tip Strex off that I had set up a wholly secret and underhand way to sneak you into town so Kevin could break his sister out of prison. I, in fact, neglected to mention any such thing, on the grounds that I like my soul and vital organs where they are. _Still inside me!_ "

This elicits a somewhat awkward silence.

"…Sorry," Carlos concedes. "We've had a rough morning."

"I can see that," Naomi replies. "Now just take a breath. You're still caught in the adrenaline come-down. Also… I don't want to intrude on your personal lives, but I think Kevin is trying to go for his knife again."

She says this so matter-of-factly, but luckily Cecil reacts almost at once, leaping on top of Kevin and pinning him down before he can get any closer to Carlos.

"…Spoilsport…" Kevin murmurs, though he still looks like he's enjoying himself too much.

Carlos rubs a hand over his eyes, which is more awkward than it ought to be on account of how much blood he's covered in. "…Oh, I did not miss this place…" he says. "Promise me wherever we're going is somewhere that _doesn't_ do the whole blood-indoors thing?"

"In that respect, you have nothing to worry about," Naomi tells him, calmly. "We're going to my place. Strex won't look too closely at it, and you can hole up there until we work out what to do. And yes, I'm a strictly blood-outside kind of woman."

"And… who exactly is your friend?" Cecil now asks.

"Ah, sorry, I do get carried away by the whole mortal-peril thing," Naomi concedes. "Carlos, Cecil, this is Darla, my wife. Darla, this is Carlos and Cecil."

"Yeah, thanks, Nay, I got that," Darla replies, but she's grinning. "Nice to finally put a face to the names… although in your case, Cecil, I already had something of an idea what to expect. How're you liking Desert Bluffs so far?"

"…It's probably best I don't answer that," Cecil replies, in his most diplomatic voice.

"I figured," Darla says. "It does take people time to get used to. Kinda charming once you do, though."

"…I'll take your word for it."

***

It takes a little while for them to drive from the centre of town to what is eventually revealed as a large estate on the outskirts, built on the edge of a low hill. As the van doors are opened, Carlos finds himself staring briefly in horror when he realises there's a Strex enforcer on the other side, but Naomi puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry," she says. "They may be enforcers, but they're on my private payroll. They won't breathe a word of this to anyone."

This helps a little, but having a number of those black-suited, orange-tied men and women around isn't exactly beneficial to Carlos' mood. Naomi leads them from the van and towards the house: a large and impressively modern-looking manor made of pale stone. And yes, the exterior _is_ covered in blood, but once they get inside, everything seems a lot more normal.

Cecil keeps hold of Kevin the whole way. A couple of Naomi's enforcers try to move in to help, but he gives them a look and they take the hint, backing off at once.

Naomi waves them all through to an open-plan living room and gestures for them to sit down, seeming quite unconcerned by how much blood they're covered in.

"Right," she says, brightly. "Now we can have a civilised conversation. Perhaps you'd better start at the beginning."

"Kevin ran off in the middle of the night," Carlos says. "We woke up, realised he was gone, and went after him. We hoped we'd catch up with him before he made it here, but he was too far ahead. So we decided to go to his sister's house in the hope he might have gone there… only Strex found us first."

"I know," Naomi answers. "I do have to apologise for that. One of my enforcers decided to betray me and tip them off. Luckily he tried to cover his tracks by not mentioning my involvement, or we'd really be in trouble. And you can rest assured… I've had a little chat with the others, and I'm confident it won't happen again…"

"…What happened to the person in question?" Cecil apparently has to ask.

Naomi smiles. "I gave him a severance package this morning," she answers.

"I… see," Cecil manages, going a little pale.

Asking for any more detail would clearly be unwise.

"So Strex grabbed us, and took us to their headquarters," Carlos goes on. "They dragged us to see Lauren, and… and Kevin was already with her. And he was like _this_. Before… you said… you asked if we'd let him near the Bloodstone. What's the Bloodstone?"

"You don't remember it at all, do you?" Naomi replies. "That's strangely impressive… to say nothing of alarming. I've heard that people forget it if they're away too long, but I've never seen the proof up close."

"We have bloodstones in Night Vale," Cecil points out. "They're pretty commonplace. What makes this one so different?"

"You have bloodstones, Cecil," Naomi says. "This is _the_ Bloodstone. You remember how Strex made bloodstones illegal in Night Vale, when they were in control? This is why. They… we… consider what you call 'bloodstones' to be little more than a shallow approximation of the object at the centre of Desert Bluffs."

"But what is it?" Carlos asks. "And… why don't I remember it?"

"Exactly what it is… no one knows for sure," Naomi tells them, although Carlos can't shake the feeling that Naomi _does_ know something more than this. Perhaps a lot more. "It's been there for as long as most people can remember, although there are supposedly a few older residents left in town who remember a time before it. It's a huge stone – more like a crystal, actually – sticking out of the ground right at the heart of Desert Bluffs. And it has a _distinctive_ effect on people." She gestures to Kevin. "It makes them like this."

"The Bloodstone is why the people of Desert Bluffs are the way they are?" Cecil asks, looking a little stunned.

"It's a big part of it, certainly," Naomi answers. "Long-term exposure to it has… consequences. But if you want a very _rapid_ change of heart, the best way is to make someone touch it. I suspect that's what Lauren did to Kevin. If he touched the Bloodstone… it would explain why he's gone like _this_."

"Oh, Naomi, I'm fine," Kevin insists.

"But you've been to the Bloodstone, haven't you?"

"Of course! I love that thing. It's so _beautiful_."

"How do we fix him?" Carlos now asks, suddenly terrified that it might not be possible.

"Well, in the long term, keeping him out of Desert Bluffs would be a good idea," Naomi says. "That will be how he managed to… _deviate from the business model_ … when he first went to Night Vale. In the short term… you need to get through to him. You… OK. Look. Can you hear the song?"

Carlos nods. "I can."

"All right. You know how it can… switch? From angels to…"

"…demons?" Carlos tries.

"Exactly," Naomi answers. "You need to get him to hear it like that. He can't have been in contact with the Bloodstone for very long, and we're right on the edge of town now so there should be enough distance between them, meaning it ought to be possible."

This is something of a relief, but it doesn't lift the vice of fear from Carlos' chest entirely.

"…What did he do to me?" he now asks, needing to know. "He… Lauren told him to question me, so he took me off and in _minutes_ I was…"

"Under?" Naomi says, calmly. "As though everything he said sounded like a wonderful idea?"

"Yeah," Carlos manages, which makes Cecil grip his hand.

"You lived here for a while, way back, right?"

"Yes."

"That means the Bloodstone has been inside your head," Naomi tells him. "It does that. And once it's gotten in… it leaves the door open. Someone who knows what they're doing – someone like Kevin, who has a remarkably strong will – can, with the right emotional manipulation, trigger that lingering connection. It takes a while for it to really get hold of you – which would be how you broke free – but the longer you stay under, the harder it becomes. So. He put you under. What did he want to know?"

"If anyone else knew we were here," Carlos answers.

"I see," Naomi replies, very carefully. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him no. He asked… he asked if anyone from _Night Vale_ knew where we were, or if they had come with us, and he didn't… he didn't seem to remember your involvement at all…"

"Did you mention me?"

"No. I don't know how I didn't, but…"

Naomi and Darla exchange a look. "That means we're still in the clear," Darla says.

"Oh yes," Naomi agrees. "We've dodged two bullets in one morning, we must be doing well. What happened then?"

"They took us to the radio station," Carlos goes on. "Lauren had asked Kevin to make a very important broadcast, which… did you hear it?"

Naomi nods. "We did."

"What was it all about?" Even as Carlos asks the question, he's confident he won't like the answer.

"I'm going to be honest with you here, I don't know Lauren's exact plan," Naomi says. "But what I do know is that what Kevin told everyone to do… it's a means to supercharge the Bloodstone. It isn't a quick process, but it's certainly effective. My guess is that, once it's supercharged, Lauren will try to use it to wake up the second stone under Night Vale…"

"…Wait, what?!" Cecil exclaims.

"There's a second Bloodstone underneath Night Vale," Naomi confirms. "It's been dormant for a very long time, but if someone could charge it up… Night Vale would rapidly become just like Desert Bluffs, and all too soon you'd be _delighted_ to welcome Strex back…"

"We can't let that happen," Cecil says, expression full of horror. "How do we stop it?"

"That's a good question," Naomi replies. "My guess is that you need to destroy the stone underneath Night Vale before Lauren can power it up, but to do that you'd have to find the thing and I don't know where exactly it is. Alternatively… alternatively you could try to destroy the one here."

" _Destroy_ the Bloodstone?" Kevin exclaims. "That's impossible! You could never destroy something so magnificent and powerful as the _Bloodstone_."

"Oh, I beg to differ," Naomi says. "I don't know how it could be done… but I bet the brilliant scientist in the room could work it out."

So, no pressure then. "…I can certainly try," Carlos answers. "But I'm not an expert on mystical rocks. Actually, for that, you want Frederick."

"Frederick?" Darla repeats.

"Yes, he's one of my scientists back home. He's… a little more _creative_ than some of the others on the team."

"Didn't he once build a death ray?" Cecil asks.

"Yep, that's him."

Naomi grins. "You say that so calmly."

"Says the woman whose house is covered in blood!" Carlos exclaims.

" _All_ the houses here are like that," Kevin stage-whispers. "It's perfectly normal."

Carlos closes his eyes and counts to ten.

"Look, if you need this guy, we can probably still use Lawrence Lavene to help him get into town," Naomi says. "But I reckon that trick will only work once, so if there's anyone _else_ you might need smuggling in, I would recommend you work it out first."

"I don't want to bring anyone else to this… this _place_ ," Cecil replies. "No offence, but…"

"I know, I know," Naomi tells him.

"Why are you helping us, anyway?" Carlos now has to ask, because the tone of Naomi's voice is a little telling. "I understand why you want to help Kevin find his sister, but… this is rather more serious."

Naomi and Darla exchange a careful look. "Strex has tried to keep the news of what happened in Night Vale to a minimum," Naomi explains. "But the fact is… some of it has filtered through. And there are people here… people like me, and Darla, and Lawrence… who would very much like to see a similar revolt take place in Desert Bluffs. A long time ago… this town… well, if our oldest residents are to be believed, it was… it was different. But then along came my father and the Management Board, and they set up Strexcorp, and… and it became like this."

"Did you bring us here to lead a revolution?" Cecil exclaims.

"No," Naomi replies. "I brought you here to rescue Kevin's sister. But I did rather hope you'd _stay_ and lead a revolution."

"You do _not_ want these two leading any revolution," Kevin interjects, calmly. "You should have seen them last time around. The first day Strex actively went after them, they decided the best place to go was _straight back to their own house_. They then proceeded – after some encouragement from me – to agree to go into hiding, but rather than letting _me_ hide them, they ran off to stay with _Cecil's sister_. And _then_ , after Cecil finally got himself arrested one afternoon outside _the most obvious secondary broadcast location in town_ – the name of which he had helpfully _stated live on air_ just to clear up any lingering confusion – Carlos _went back home again_. You don't even want to _know_ how many people I had to _kill_ just to stop the enforcers working out where they were."

This is quite a diatribe. Everyone stares at him.

"…You're not pleasant when you're like this," Cecil mutters.

"I'm always pleasant!" Kevin insists.

"He… ah… he does have a point, though," Carlos has to concede, studiously avoiding Cecil or Kevin's eyes as he speaks. "We… did make a few mistakes the first time around. And we had a lot of help. We had the prophecies from Fey, the sentient computer who runs the numbers station, and we had all the people the prophecies referred to…"

"…You think it might work again?" Cecil now asks. "I mean… to save Night Vale, we had to get the four of them together… Josie, John, Larry, and… you know, and Steve. And… if Desert Bluffs is a mirror of Night Vale… maybe we can save it using their doubles."

Anywhere else in the world, this kind of idea would class as insane logic and impossible coincidence. But around here… insane logic and impossible coincidence seem to come as standard.

"…It's worth a try," Carlos agrees. "But we might have difficulties if any of them are particularly loyal to Strex."

"Plus we'd have to work out who they are," Naomi says. "I know Larry Leroy's double is Lawrence Lavene… who did you say the others were?"

"Old Woman Josie, John Peters – you know, the farmer? – and… Steve Carlsberg," Cecil answers.

"OK, well I'm guessing Old Woman Josie's double is Grandma Josephine," Naomi reasons. "She's fairly strong-minded so she might be amenable. And obviously John Peters' double is James Paulson – the farmer, you know? He'll be more of an issue, given that he's a known Strex loyalist. But I have no idea on this… Steve Carlsberg. Do you have a picture of him?"

"…Yes," Cecil says, though he doesn't look pleased about it. "Yes, I… hold on."

He pulls out his phone, taps it a few times, and flicks through his picture library until… "OK, there you go…"

And he shows it to Naomi.

"…Cecil, this is a picture of Kirsten and Gillian, and a guy I've never seen before," she says, looking confused. "I… oh. Wait. This isn't Kirsten and Gillian at all, is it? Is this their doubles?"

Cecil nods. "Caitlin and Janice. My sister and my niece. And the guy with them is my sister's husband and Janice's stepdad: Steve Carlsberg."

"I see. Well, I can tell you I've never seen anyone who looks like him before. And I have a good memory for faces. I'm loath to say it, but… I don't think Steve Carlsberg _has_ a double."

Cecil puts his head in his hands for a long moment. Carlos decides to pat him on the shoulder, but he's not at all sure if it makes a difference.

"…We're going to have to ask him for help, aren't we?" Cecil mutters. "Steve, I mean. We're going to have to bring him here because he doesn't have a double."

"Well, your entire plan is based on hazy conjecture and vague hope," Darla points out, with a little grin. "So you could just as well decide to raise an army of lizard people instead."

"Would that be easier?" Cecil asks, not hiding the flicker of desperation in his eyes as he looks up.

"We are not raising an army of lizard people!" Carlos insists.

"…Oh, fine."

"All right," Naomi interjects, levelly, "this is where we stand. You two need to contact the other scientist you want, and this Steve Carlsberg, and tell them to meet Lawrence on the outskirts of town tomorrow morning. Then you need to try very, very hard to de-program Kevin because right now he is a walking liability. In the meantime, I'll keep working on finding Kirsten, because we do, in fact, still need to rescue her."

Carlos feels immensely guilty again. They came here to rescue Kevin's sister and they have – so far – seriously messed that up. And he can't even bear to _think_ about what the poor woman might be going through.

"I have plenty of space in the house, so you can stay in one of the spare rooms," Naomi goes on. "I have a feeling this might take a few days. And please… don't go out. Much as you may not like being cooped up in here, it will be a cake-walk compared to the dark cell Lauren will throw you into if Strex catches you again. Assuming they don't just kill you on the spot."

"We'll keep that in mind," Cecil concedes.

"Feel free to wander about the house at your leisure, however," Naomi adds. "We don't often have guests so it'll be nice to have some other people around. Although… I would recommend you stay out of the basement."

"…Why?" Carlos has to ask.

"Well, let's put it this way," Darla replies. "You're a scientist, right?"

"Right."

"So I'm guessing you have a lab in your house?"

"Yes."

"Right. And if someone really, really didn't like science, you'd recommend they stayed out of the lab, yes?"

"Uh… yes, I guess so."

"OK then. So unless you really, really like necromancy, I'd recommend you stay out of the basement."

And no one is going to argue with this.


	5. Castle of Glass

_Take me down to the river bend_  
_Take me down to the fighting end_  
_Wash the poison from off my skin_  
_Show me how to be whole again_  
_Fly me up on a silver wing_  
_Past the black where the sirens sing_  
_Warm me up in a nova's glow_  
_And drop me down to the dream below_

~ Linkin Park: _'Castle of Glass'_

***

It's a short time later.

They've been shown to a pleasingly normal-looking guest room, which – mercifully – has its own en suite. It _also_ has a stock of clean _male_ clothing which, given that this house is normally home to just two _women_ , adds further credence to Carlos' theory that Naomi has been planning this for a while.

But right now… just _not_ being covered in blood is a good thing. They make Kevin go first, and then Carlos goes next. As he steps out of the shower and starts towelling himself dry, he realises he can hear voices from out in the main room. Struck by sudden curiosity, he very, very quietly edges the door open just a crack, so he can hear properly as he gets dressed.

He probably shouldn't listen in at all. But for some reason… he does.

"…I'm serious, Kevin, you need to fight it," Cecil is saying, sounding somewhat exasperated, as if this isn't the first time in recent moments that he's said as much.

"Oh, Cecil, there's nothing to fight," Kevin insists. "Honestly, I'm _fine_."

"You are not fine! You have been brainwashed by Strexcorp again!"

"Conditioned."

"Hm?"

"If you were right – which you aren't – then I would have been conditioned. 'Brainwashing' is actually the term for when you _undo_ conditioning. Which I guess is what you're trying to do to me right now, only it won't work because I am _fine_."

"You're not!" Cecil insists again. "And what's more, I think you know it. I think, under it all, you can feel that something's not right." He sighs softly. "When are you going to start trusting me the way you trust Carlos?"

"I do," Kevin replies. "I do trust you."

"Not the way you trust Carlos. And I know… I know you have a history with him that you don't have with me, but… Kevin, you're my _double_. We should…"

"Cecil," Kevin interjects, gently, "you're panicking because you're fighting this. If you just relax and accept it, they way I have, we could stop all this silly revolutionary nonsense and you'd feel _much_ better."

"It isn't silly," Cecil says, voice suddenly heavy with meaning. "It's… me repaying a very, very important debt…"

There's an odd silence. Carlos can't see Kevin's face, but he's confident the man is giving Cecil a strange look.

"…A debt?" he repeats.

"Yes," Cecil answers. "You helped save Night Vale. We could not – _could not_ – have done it without you. And you nearly _died_ in the process. We nearly… nearly lost you…"

Kevin gives a soft little gasp, and Carlos has no choice but to step up to the door, looking out through the crack. In the room beyond, he can see Cecil and Kevin standing close together, and Cecil has slipped his hand under Kevin's shirt, resting it against his side. Against the place where he was stabbed, during the Battle of Night Vale.

"I don't know what I would have done if we'd lost you," Cecil whispers.

It hurts too much now. Carlos quickly tugs on his own shirt and pushes the door open. The other two both turn to look at him as he comes back through, although they don't move apart. Kevin seems almost captivated by what Cecil has just said, and Carlos finds himself daring to hope that they might be starting to get through to him.

Also… _Cecil_ is still covered in blood whilst _Kevin_ isn't, and that's a weird counterpoint that does odd things to the inside of Carlos' head.

"Your turn," he says to Cecil, as if he _hasn't_ just been listening in on them.

"All right," Cecil agrees, after one last look into Kevin's eyes. "Will you be OK with him?"

"Kevin won't hurt me," Carlos answers, feeling sure of it. And also… wanting to _sound_ sure of it in the hopes that this will somehow make _Kevin_ feel sure of it, too.

Cecil looks between the two of them, then nods. "OK. I'll be quick."

And he heads into the bathroom.

When he's gone, Carlos realises Kevin is staring at him. "What?" he asks, carefully.

"…It's the song, Carlos," Kevin whispers, and for the first time he sounds _pained_ talking about it, rather than raptured. "It's in my head. It… I…"

" _Fight it_ ," Carlos urges, going for broke, crossing the space between them and gripping Kevin's shoulders. "Please, Kevin, fight it."

"But they… they want me back… They _never_ take people back but they wanted me…"

" _Kevin_ , they're using you… and when they're done with you, do you really think they'll let you live? You fought for Night Vale against them. Your demon – with whom you rearranged a deal in secret – was the one who actually killed their leader. They won't let you live when this is all over. And I don't even want to _think_ about what they _will_ do to you."

"I… but I'm… they said I could come home… they said I _belonged_ here again…"

Carlos doesn't quite know where the urge comes from. Maybe it's desperation. Maybe it's straight-up _need_. Either way, all of a sudden, he finds himself taking hold of Kevin and pushing him into the nearest wall. It's a good thing the man doesn't resist – because Carlos is not exactly forceful – but the fact remains that he _really_ doesn't resist.

_I always wondered what it would be like if we switched places._

"You _don't_ belong here," Carlos insists, leaning in close, trying to hide how nervous he is. "You belong with _us_."

"No… no… I… I belong to Strex. We _all_ belong to Strex…"

"They _abandoned_ you. They threw you out of your own hometown. They _abducted_ your sister. They're _evil_ , Kevin, and you… you're not theirs. You're _ours_."

The roar of his own heartbeat in his ears is near-deafening, but Carlos stands his ground, trying not to blink.

"I'm… but… Carlos, the _song_ …"

"The song is a _lie_. Remember what you told me, the other night, in the garden? _Listen to it_. Stop hearing what you think it sounds like and hear it for what it _really_ is."

Kevin goes silent for a moment, closing his eyes… and then he opens them all at once, expression suddenly flooded with fear and understanding. "Carlos… I… it's…"

He pushes forward, and for a second Carlos is sure the man is trying to attack him again… only, instead, Kevin throws both arms around him and holds on tight, and he's shaking bodily.

"They're… they were in my head, I… they wanted me to… to…"

"It's all right," Carlos tells him, wrapping him in close. "It's all right. We got you away from them. You're safe."

"I… my sister… I came here to find my sister but they made me forget… they made me… oh Carlos, did I hurt you..?"

"Not physically. You gave me the shock of my life, though."

You're good at that.

Cautiously, he pushes Kevin onto the bed, making him lie down and then climbing carefully on top of him, stroking a hand over his cheek and kissing him gently, again and again. Just… needing to touch him. Needing to pull him back from the brink.

" _Carlos_ ," Kevin whispers, when the kiss breaks. "You feel so… so right…"

"Just relax," Carlos tells him. "Just relax and let me hold you."

And for once, Kevin doesn't argue, lying still and unresisting beneath him. Carlos can feel how much his boyfriend is shaking, and he suspects the growing realisation of what's been happening is making the adrenaline hit.

All of a sudden, Kevin surges up and holds on tight, and for a second Carlos worries the man has gone under again… but he hasn't. He just _holds on_.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Kevin whispers, voice cracking. "You and Cecil. And… Carlos, Cecil thinks… he thinks I don't trust him… but I do, and…"

"I know," Carlos says. "I know. It's going to be OK."

"Is it? I… you can't fight this place. Not really. People have tried. A long time ago… I think _I_ tried, but… but you can't. It's Strex. Strex always win."

"They didn't win in Night Vale," Carlos reminds him, urging him to lie back once more and stroking gently over his shoulder. "Not in the end. We kicked them out. And if we can save Night Vale… we can save Desert Bluffs too."

Deep down, he knows it's still a long-shot. They barely survived what happened in Night Vale, and the town hasn't yet finished recovering from it all. But they _did_ survive. And they _are_ recovering. And if Kevin was willing to risk everything for Night Vale… Carlos has to be willing to risk everything for Desert Bluffs.

He lies for several moments with Kevin beneath him, gently stroking over his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, just… wanting to soothe him. Wanting to bring him back, to _keep_ him back. To make sure he doesn't slip under the influence of… of whatever that thing in the centre of town is.

It's scientifically impossible, of course. Of course. But 'scientifically impossible' pretty much comes as standard around here.

There's a sudden click as the bathroom door opens, and Cecil paces carefully out. Carlos looks back at him at once, and he can see the concern in his boyfriend's eyes. The concern and the hope.

"…Is he?" Cecil starts off.

Carlos nods. "I think it's working."

He holds out a hand, gesturing Cecil in, and Cecil takes the invitation at once, climbing onto the bed on Kevin's other side. This makes Kevin stare at him, as if seeing him for the first time, reaching up to hold on.

"I do trust you, you know," Kevin insists, as if the words are burning him up inside. "With my heart. With my _life_."

"I know," Cecil replies.

"And I know… I know I'm only here because you let me in…"

"No. _No_. You're here because you're a part of this. A part of _us_. Whatever any of us were before this… we're _this_ now…"

They all curl in tighter at that, and Carlos has to bury his face in the crook of Kevin's neck for a long moment, trying very hard not to tear up.

"You're still in a _lot_ of trouble, though," Cecil says, eventually, but there's no force in his voice. "Running off in the middle of the night like that? You scared us to death."

"I'm sorry," Kevin replies. "I thought… I didn't want you to have to come here. I thought if I could just go on my own, and get Kirsten out… I could spare the two of you from all this…"

"And how well did that work for you?" Cecil asks, tone wry.

"…Not well," Kevin concedes. "I… not well at all."

"Promise us no more running off?"

"I promise."

"Good."

There's an oddly comfortable little silence, and Carlos thinks he might actually be relaxing for the first time in quite a while.

"Where does this leave us?" he asks.

"It leaves us… apparently having agreed to lead a revolution in Desert Bluffs," Cecil manages. "Which is not something I ever thought I'd need to say. But… it's about more than just stopping the new danger to Night Vale. It's… we _owe_ you this."

"You don't," Kevin insists. "I couldn't ever ask you to risk your lives for this place."

"Would _you_ risk your life for this place?" Cecil asks.

"Yes," Kevin answers, without the slightest hesitation, and that single word speaks volumes.

"Then so will I," Cecil tells him.

"Me too," Carlos adds. "Even if we are apparently basing our whole plan on an insane leap of logic."

"It isn't insane," Cecil says. "The mirroring between Night Vale and Desert Bluffs is… strong. And plus, there's one thing you're forgetting. When Strex came to Night Vale, they had that list of names: John, Josie, Larry, Steve and me. That was _before_ Fey's prophecies."

"So… you think they had some kind of prophecy of their own?" Carlos reasons.

Cecil nods. "Yes. I think they must have. They knew who they were looking for long before we did… and I think that's because they've been keeping an eye on the same people – well, on their doubles – over here."

"…That's still an insane leap of logic," Carlos points out.

"It's a good one though," Kevin remarks.

Carlos rubs a hand over his eyes. "It's also a bit recursive. I mean… you're saying that Strex was keeping an eye on the doubles of the people who may be destined to save Desert Bluffs, but only because their doubles first saved Night Vale… which they wouldn't have been able to do if we didn't know about them in the first place on account of their doubles being destined to save Desert Bluffs."

"Yes."

"…My head hurts."

It's still not the weirdest thing he's experienced since moving out here. Not by a long shot.

"Well," Cecil says. "I guess… I guess I'm going to have to call…" He pauses, looking pained. "I really don't want to… but…"

"My memories from before are a little hazy," Kevin points out. "Who are you calling?"

Cecil hesitates a moment before saying, "…Steve Carlsberg."

"Because?"

"Because he doesn't appear to have a double over here."

"That's a good point," Kevin replies. "I did wonder why he was so unfamiliar. So… you're going to call your brother-in-law and ask him to come and help?"

"…Yes."

"And you think that will work?"

"Honestly? No."

"…So how do you plan to get him here?" Kevin now has to ask.

"Well, best option I can see is to call a friend I have in the Secret Police," Cecil answers. "I'll get them to knock Steve out and deliver him to Frederick – one of Carlos' scientists, who we also need – and then they can–"

"I am not having one of my team being complicit in a kidnapping!" Carlos exclaims. "Not again! Do you know how long it took me to talk the City Council down last time? You're just going to have to appeal to Steve's noble side."

"He doesn't have one!"

"He does," Carlos insists. "Tell him… tell him about Kirsten. And Gillian. He'll come then."

"…All right," Cecil concedes. "But if it doesn't work, I'm still going to try the abduction thing."

Between them, Kevin smiles. "I love you both, you know."

And despite it all, Cecil grins. "We know. We love you too."

***

In the end, Carlos calls Frederick first. He puts his phone on speaker as it rings, so the other two can listen.

"Hello?"

"Frederick, hey, it's Carlos."

"Oh, you're not dead, excellent," Frederick replies. "We were starting to worry."

"Sorry," Carlos tells him. "I had to… uh… look, Frederick, are you somewhere you can talk in private? Away from the others and… you know, any windows?"

"This sounds ominous," Frederick remarks. "Hold on." There's footsteps for a moment, and the echo of a door opening and closing, and then the scientist speaks again. "OK, I'm in the clear now. What's going on?"

"Just… just hear me out before you react," Carlos starts, hoping this doesn't go too badly. Frederick is one of the more sane and together members of the team, but he's still the person who built a _death ray_ and who thinks most things can be improved with 'a spot more plutonium'.

"Look," Carlos goes on. "Long story short? I'm in Desert Bluffs. I came down with Cecil and Kevin so that we could try to rescue Kevin's sister from Strexcorp, but things… things sort of got a bit out of hand and we may have agreed to help lead a revolution over here."

There's a very long pause. "…Wow," Frederick breathes, finally. "You really _have_ lost it this time! Come on, where are you really? You're not stuck up a lamppost are you? 'Cause that's only funny once…"

"Frederick!" Carlos exclaims. "I'm being serious!"

There's another long pause. " _Seriously_ serious?"

"Yes! Seriously serious!"

"And you're actually in…" Frederick drops his voice. "You're actually in _Desert Bluffs?_ "

"Yes."

" _Sweet_."

"Frederick!"

"Sorry." He doesn't exactly sound it, though. "Is it as insane as the rumours say?"

"It's _worse_ ," Carlos tells him. "But don't let that… uh…"

"Carlos, what's going on?" Frederick pushes. "Why are you calling _me_? If you were just letting us know you're going to be AWOL a few days, you'd've called Toby."

"…Frederick, I need your help. _We_ need your help. _Here_."

"…In Desert Bluffs?"

"Yes. In Desert Bluffs."

There's yet another pause. This is not exactly a surprise. It isn't everyday you get asked to come to _this_ place.

"…With what?"

"Look, I don't want to explain too much over the phone, but I need someone with your particular skillset. I promise I'll tell you everything when you get here… if… if you'll come."

"…All right," Frederick agrees, after a moment. "All right. I don't think I could pass up an opportunity like this. Not for _science_."

"Thank you," Carlos replies. "Thank you. We need to get you into town without anyone noticing. There's a guy here… Lawrence Lavene. He's Larry Leroy's double. He'll be at a point out in the desert at 7am tomorrow morning, so if you rendezvous with him, he can bring you into town under the radar. I'll text you the co-ordinates so you know where to meet him."

"OK," Frederick says. "This had better not get me killed by Strexcorp. Or worse."

"I'll do my utmost to prevent it," Carlos promises, very much meaning every syllable.

"Please do. Well then, I'll… hopefully see you tomorrow."

"Yes. And thank you again. Also please tell the others I'm OK."

"I will."

And he hangs up.

Carlos takes a deep breath. "Well. That was… easier than I expected."

"One down, one to go," Kevin remarks, with a little smile. He's brightened considerably now he's feeling better, which is a great relief.

"…Thanks for the reminder," says Cecil, dryly. He stares at his phone for a long moment as if daring it to spontaneously combust. When it doesn't, he sighs. "I'd better do this."

He calls Steve and puts the phone on speaker. After several seconds there's a click, a pause, and then a voice says, "…Password?"

"Steve, I don't have time for this," Cecil replies.

" _Password?_ " Steve insists, more firmly.

Cecil sighs again and rubs a hand over his forehead. "… _Exemplify_ ," he concedes.

"See, now, Cecil, that wasn't so difficult was it?" Steve says. "Gotta be careful with these things. Can't just go talking to any old person without checking they're not working for the government or the Illuminati or the secret order of lizard kings. Now. What can I do you for? Or are you just calling in an attempt to disprove another of my clearly accurate theories?"

"Your last theory was about strange goings-on at the abandoned monolith outside town."

"Yes. And you were very dismissive of what I had to say!"

"Steve, _everyone_ knows what goes on at the abandoned monolith outside town! It has its own Facebook page!"

Even though they can't see Steve's face, Carlos is confident the man is narrowing his eyes. "Is this a social call, Cecil?" he asks. "I'm very busy and important."

"Look, Steve… it causes me significant pain to say this, but… I sort of need your help."

"Should've thought of that before you dismissed my monolith theory."

"Wait! Just give me a chance. Just… _please_ , Steve."

Cecil now looks very much like he wants to bash his head against the wall.

"…Fine," Steve agrees. "But this had better be good."

"OK. Look. I'm sort of in Desert Bluffs right now…"

"…What?! Have you taken leave of your senses?! Oh… wait. You went with the scientist and your maniac double, didn't you? It's _so_ a weird sex thing this time!"

"It is _not_ a weird sex thing!" Cecil insists, though it's probably for the best that Steve can't see how pink he's just gone. "We came down to help rescue Kevin's sister from Strexcorp, only it sort of went a bit wrong, and… and we've kind of agreed to help lead a revolution over here. Like… like the one in Night Vale, only with considerably more blood."

"…You _have_ taken leave of your senses," Steve replies, but his voice is deadly serious now. "You get yourself _out_ of that insane place and come home. I do _not_ want to have to tell Caitlin what you've done."

"It isn't that simple. If we don't help do this… Night Vale may very well be in danger again. And… and we haven't found Kevin's sister yet, either. Kirsten. She's… she's Caitlin's double, Steve."

The other man goes quiet for a moment. "…My Caitlin has a double over there?" he says.

"Yes. And she's in danger."

"What about… what about Janice? Does she have a double too?"

"Yes. Gillian. She's OK, but her mom… her mom may not be."

Cecil reaches over and grips Kevin's hand at that.

"…If I do this, Caitlin will kill me," Steve says, finally. "I mean, really this time."

"I know," Cecil replies. "But you can tell her it was entirely my fault. And that's the only get-out-of-jail-free card I'll _ever_ let you have."

"…All right," Steve agrees. "But you are going to explain _everything_ when I get there. And… how _do_ I get there? I'm sure Strex watches the border. If I try to wander in down the main road, won't they just grab me?"

"…I would imagine so," says Cecil, dryly. "We have a plan, though. I'll text you a set of co-ordinates for a place out in the desert. If you go there at 7am tomorrow morning, you'll meet a man called Lawrence Lavene. He's Larry Leroy's double. You should also meet Frederick, who's one of Carlos' scientists and who is coming to help as well."

"Frederick?" Steve repeats. "Isn't he the one who built the death ray?"

"Yes. That's him."

"Huh. I hope he isn't planning to sell it to the government."

" _Focus_ , Steve. Lawrence will bring you and Frederick into town under the radar, and when you get here I'll explain everything."

"…OK. OK. You know if anything bad happens to me, your sister will kill you?"

"Yes, Steve. I know that."

"All right then. I guess… I'll see you tomorrow."

"Unfortunately so."

And they hang up.

"See?" Kevin says, with a little forced brightness that is no doubt to cover over how worried he really is. "That went just fine."

"Oh, I need a lie down…" Cecil murmurs, and drops back on the bed. "I don't know what's worse: being stuck in this place, or the fact that soon _Steve Carlsberg_ will be here too."

Kevin drops back beside him. "My sister is still in a Strexcorp prison," he says.

Carlos drops down on Cecil's other side. "And there's a necromancer in the basement."

They all pause.

"We're not having a good day, are we?" Cecil remarks.

"No," Carlos agrees. "On the plus side, none of us is currently enthralled by the massive, probably-cursed crystal at the centre of town. And we're no longer drenched in blood."

"And… we have each other?" Kevin adds.

They grip hands.

"Yeah," Cecil says. "We have each other."

A moment later, there's a knock at the door. They all leap up at once, and Cecil goes to open it.

Naomi is standing on the other side, and she gives the three of them a careful look-over. "Any luck with Kevin?" she asks.

"Actually, yes," Cecil tells her.

"I'm feeling much better," Kevin adds. "Sorry if I was… you know. Weird before."

"Nothing I can't handle," Naomi replies. "I was at the 2006 Company Picnic, remember?"

It is no doubt still best not to ask.

"And we got in touch with Frederick and Steve," Carlos says, to keep the conversation on safer lines. "They're going to meet Lawrence outside town tomorrow morning at 7am."

Naomi nods. "Excellent. I'll let him know. In the meantime… Kevin, if you're back to normal… or whatever classes as normal in your case… there's someone downstairs who'd like to see you."

So the three of them follow her, and the moment they get to the bottom of the stairs, there's a shout from the doorway to the lounge.

"Uncle Kevin!"

A short figure barrels across the hallway and flings itself straight at Kevin, who looks momentarily – gloriously – surprised before he breaks into a very bright smile.

"Gillian! Oh, thank Azatothoth you're all right…"

When Gillian finally steps back… well, the resemblance is uncanny. She's _identical_ to Janice, right down to the look of vague disrespect for authority.

Naomi beams over at them. "At least there's one good thing to come out of today," she remarks. "Gillian's been an _excellent_ houseguest since I whisked her out of sight the other afternoon. She's even been helping Darla with some of her experiments."

"I'm learning bone telepathy!" Gillian tells them, proudly.

Kevin looks delighted. Carlos tries very, very hard not to think about it.

"I realise this is a bit of a short reunion, but we should talk," Naomi now says.

"Can I come, Aunt Naomi?" Gillian asks.

"Probably best you don't, dear," Naomi replies. "It's about your mom."

Gillian nods. "OK. In that case, I'm gonna go see if Darla can teach me to summon something."

She smirks and skips off in the direction of the basement steps.

Kevin claps a hand to his chest. "My sister's little girl, everyone," he says. "Oh, I'm so proud…"

Naomi waves them back through to the lounge, and the four of them sit down.

"Gillian called you 'aunt'," Carlos points out, wondering something. "Is it just a term of affection, or..?"

"Oh, I've known Gill since she was born," Naomi replies. "And hey, if my dad had had his way, I _would_ have been her aunt, nearabouts."

"You would?"

Kevin goes oddly pink, which is not like him at all because basically _nothing_ fazes the man. But he's definitely blushing now.

"Oh, you're going to have to tell us," Cecil pushes.

"…OK, fine," Kevin agrees. "Way back… Derek Hartley wanted me to marry Lauren."

Carlos and Cecil both stare at him.

"He rapidly found out it wouldn't work," Kevin goes on, very calmly, "due to the part where _everyone_ knows I have no interest in women in that way. Lauren tried to talk me into a marriage of convenience, but… no. If nothing else, no one would ever have believed it. That's how she ended up marrying Adam Mallard instead. But to start off with… Mr Hartley wanted me as a son-in-law. He was very fond of me."

"…Kind of makes how everything turned out even more awkward, hey?" Naomi remarks, completely unfazed.

"Yeah, just a little bit," Kevin concedes.

The other two are still staring. "…And you never told us this?" Cecil manages.

"Well, like Naomi says, it's a bit awkward now. I did turn down Mr Hartley's precious girl and leave her to marry a guy he was _not_ so fond of. And then there's the whole part where my demon did eviscerate him to death…"

"…I have told you not to tell me about it!" Carlos exclaims.

"…Sorry."

Cecil is still staring. "So… you were nearly the heir to _Strexcorp?_ "

"Oh, no, Lauren was always the heir to Strexcorp," Kevin replies. "But I could have been up there with her… except that I was holding out for love."

"You're such a hopeless romantic," Naomi remarks, with an affectionate little eyeroll. "Well. Enough backstory. We have a more immediate issue. I've managed to track down where Strex is holding Kirsten."

Kevin's expression goes deadly serious. It's still scary how quickly he can do that.

"Where?" he asks at once.

"They have a new detention centre," Naomi explains. "It's on the outskirts of town, close to Sunbeam Ridge. They've been using it to incarcerate people deemed as a risk to stability."

"Stability?" Kevin repeats. "You mean… people who might rebel?"

"It looks that way. The place is almost completely underground, and built like a fortress. I won't lie to you… getting in is not going to be easy."

"Wait, why do they even bother locking these people up?" Cecil asks. "Why don't they just make them touch the Bloodstone?"

"Because – and Kevin is the case in point here – the effects of the Bloodstone can be fought," Naomi reminds them. "If you have someone who needs that kind of coercion to keep them loyal, you can't take any risks with them long-term. Yes, you can get short-term benefits… which is what Lauren was trying to do with Kevin… but in the long run, it's safer to lock them up. Or take them out of the equation altogether."

"And… you're sure Kirsten is there?" Kevin says.

Naomi nods. "Yes. I have some trustworthy sources. She's there."

This is both a relief and a fresh cause for worry. It's vital that they know where Kirsten is, so that's good… but it certainly sounds like a very bad place to be.

"All right," Cecil now says, "how do we get her out?"

"Well, broadly speaking, you have two options," Naomi replies. "Either you try to get in there without anyone noticing, or we storm the place."

" _Storm the place?!_ " Cecil exclaims. "A pair of radio broadcasters and a scientist?!"

"At least Kevin can do all that kung-fu stuff…" Carlos points out.

" _Corporate negotiation_ ," Kevin insists. "It's _corporate negotiation,_ and… OK, fine, it's knife-fighting. And you'd know how to do it too, if you'd had to hold down a job here as long as I have."

"I'm not exactly advocating you go in alone," Naomi cuts across, calmly. "Although… you _did_ save Night Vale so I'm sure you're handy in a tight corner…"

"We spent most of the battle trying not to get ourselves killed!" Cecil exclaims. "The only reason people think we saved anything is because we happened to be the ones destined to open the mystical door that let in all the masked warriors who _actually_ saved the town."

Naomi shrugs. "You still did it though. Don't sell yourself short. But, as I say, I'm not advocating you go in alone. I'll be coming with you. And I have a few like-minded associates I can call up as well."

"If you come with us, Lauren will find out you're involved," Kevin reminds her. "We can't risk that. We need to keep you off the radar or we lose our biggest advantage. And our only safe hiding place."

"I realise that," Naomi replies. "But I can't let you do this alone. Kirsten's my friend, Kevin. She's like family to me. As are you."

Kevin looks pained. "I know. But we have to be sensible about this. If Lauren finds out you've turned on her… it won't end well."

"But I _want_ her to know," Naomi says, suddenly, her eyes darkening. "She never listens to me… Daddy's little angel… I want to wipe the smile right off her face."

"And the time will come," Kevin reassures her. "I promise you, it will. But for now… it's safer this way."

"He's right," Carlos chips in. "And he is sort of the reason we didn't get ourselves killed last time around, so you should probably listen to him."

Naomi gives an accepting little sigh. "Oh, you're right," she says. "I don't like it, though. I don't like the thought of you going in there without me. I'm sending as many of my people with you as I can manage."

"…Actually," Carlos says, voice suddenly soft as the plan forms in his head, "I think we should go in alone."

"What?!" Cecil exclaims.

"Just hear me out. If we try to storm the place… OK, yes, we've got Kevin and his corporate negotiation, and I imagine Naomi's friends will be similarly skilled. But… it will all end in blood. I know it. Violence just begets more violence and… I don't do violence. I'm a _scientist_."

Cecil grips his hand tight, and Carlos hopes he looks braver than he feels.

"So what do you suggest?" Naomi asks.

"Well… the last time Strex saw Kevin, he was… you know. Evil. No offence. So if he turns up at the place with someone Strex wants in custody… say, the two of us… they'll most likely let him in. At which point…"

"…At which point, Carlos, there will be violence," Kevin reminds him. "You're going to have to accept that."

"I know. But… the alternative involves a lot _more_ violence so… so I'll just have to reconcile myself to the fact. And once we're inside, we find Kirsten and… and get her out."

"There will be other people in there too," Cecil says, voice suddenly a little hollow. "We can't just leave them…"

"Then we break everyone out," Carlos replies. He knows what he's saying, knows the plan is spiralling into something that might very well get them killed. But if they're doing this, it has to be all or nothing.

No half measures.

"You're talking about staging a jailbreak from one of the most secure prisons Strexcorp _has_ ," Naomi exclaims. "Be sensible about this."

"There is _nothing_ sensible about this," Carlos says. "That's why it might just work. How many people are Strex holding there?"

"About fifteen," Naomi replies.

"That means it's do-able."

"Well, yes, but…"

"Trust me, I'm a scientist. With a plan."

"Your plan appears to be to pull the old look-who-my-prisoners-are trick, and then to have Kevin knife the guards to death when you get inside," Naomi points out. "At least my plan involved Kevin having _backup_ for the killing part."

"Ah, but you're only half right," Carlos replies. "Yes, OK, we pull the old look-who-my-prisoners-are trick, but after that… we open up the front door and let in Steve and Frederick…"

Cecil holds up a hand. "Wait. You want to bring _Steve_ into this?"

Carlos nods. "Yes. I want to bring in a man who is a known expert at computer hacking and I also want Frederick, who is a specialist in creative weaponry design. He built a death ray, remember?"

"And you want to introduce a _death ray_ to this whole situation?" Cecil exclaims.

"Merciful Einstein, no," Carlos answers. "I don't want that insane thing anywhere near anyone I care about. But Frederick is an expert in all sorts of weaponry… including the kind you can use to sedate people. He and Steve should be able to flood the corridors with an anaesthetising agent whilst leaving the cells isolated, and then we can get everyone free _without_ needing to murder every enforcer Strex has in there."

"…Just a few of them," Kevin says, rather too calmly.

"Yes. Just a few of them."

There's an odd silence.

"You know you're insane, right?" Naomi asks, finally.

"Yes," Carlos concedes. "But I also know that Strex will be expecting an all-out attack. This will catch them right off their guard. The only downside is… we have to wait until tomorrow night, because we don't have Steve and Frederick yet. Can we risk leaving it another day?"

"I would say so," Naomi replies. "If nothing else, it gives me a little more time to pull together my people in case we need a backup plan."

"All right," Carlos says. He looks at the other two. "Are we decided?"

Cecil flicks his eyes between Carlos and Kevin, and then he nods. "Yes. So long as you promise to help me talk Steve into it."

"I'm game," Kevin agrees. "Though if it goes wrong… I'm warning you, I'm summoning the demon. And then there _will_ be blood."

"I just hope you know what you're doing," Naomi says.

"So do I," Carlos admits. "So do I."


	6. Undisclosed Desires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this chapter consists almost entirely of shameless fanservice. Enjoy ;-)
> 
> A warning for some light knifeplay (but, trust me, nothing extreme).

_I want to reconcile the violence in your heart_  
_I want to recognise your beauty's not just a mask_  
_I want to exorcise the demons from your past_  
_I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart_

~ Muse: _'Undisclosed Desires'_

***

It's late.

Or possibly early. It's hard to tell for sure, especially given the tenuous unreality of time. What _is_ easy to tell is that it's raining. Raining _blood_.

Carlos had been used to this sort of thing back when he lived in Desert Bluffs, but since moving to Night Vale – where it very rarely rains, and certainly never rains _blood_ – it's something he's a lot less used to. The sound keeps waking him up, although as he wakes up _this_ time he's confident that it's something else that has caught his attention.

He's right. Kevin is gone again.

The three of them had been curled tight together in the bed, in the guestroom Naomi has given them, but now Carlos finds himself once more waking up to discover Kevin missing.

Hoping against hope that the man hasn't gone far – and deciding not to worry Cecil for the moment – he slips out of bed and goes in search of their wayward boyfriend.

Luckily, finding him doesn't take long. Kevin is down in the central hallway – a large, open space with a marble-tiled floor – and… he seems to be running through a long sequence of exercises with his knife; the blade singing through the air as he moves, twisting and turning with absolute ease, taking down enemies that exist only in his mind.

It's breathtaking. Utterly, mind-blowingly breathtaking. And, for several moments, all Carlos can do is linger at the top of the stairs, watching.

"You can come down, you know," Kevin says, suddenly, pausing in mid-step and glancing over his shoulder. "You don't have to hide up there."

He finishes the pattern as Carlos comes down the stairs, holding the final stance for a second and then relaxing with a little bow.

"You OK?" Carlos asks him, carefully.

Kevin nods. "Yes. I couldn't sleep. I was contemplating summoning Azzie but I don't think I should do it inside without Naomi's permission, and I can't do it in the garden whilst the bloodrain is this bad. I mean, I _can_ do it, but I figured you and Cecil wouldn't be wholly impressed if I came back drenched in _that_ much blood. You both have this… _face_ you do."

Carlos tries very hard not to do the face. "So instead you're… practicing?"

"Yes. It's soothing. Plus it will be helpful come tomorrow night."

"We're going to get Kirsten back. And then… whatever comes next, at least you'll know that she and Gillian are both safe."

Kevin nods. "I know. And I think your plan is a good one. There's just one variable you keep neglecting to consider."

"There is?"

"There is."

And Kevin moves all at once: a rapid, terrifying burst of momentum that comes out of nowhere. He grabs hold of Carlos and pushes him across the room, slamming him into the wall and pinning him bodily, knife pressed rather firmly against his throat.

Let's be honest here. It would be a _lot_ of fun if Carlos wasn't suddenly scared out of his mind.

"You need to be more _careful_ ," Kevin says, voice low and urgent. "This place is still trying to get its claws back into me every _second_ that I'm here, and even though you pulled me out of it before, the risk is _high_ that I could go under again. You shouldn't be alone with me, especially not when I'm armed and _certainly_ not when everyone else is asleep."

"You won't hurt me," Carlos insists.

"Won't I?" Kevin replies. "You don't know that for sure. What I did to you this morning… you're just lucky you're so susceptible to me, because that was the _easy_ option."

"I'm not _susceptible_ to you," Carlos says, though even as he does he can hear in his own voice how wrong he is.

Kevin laughs softly. "Yes, you are," he responds, stroking the edge of the blade down the centre of Carlos' throat, which feels so damnably terrifyingly wonderful that he can hardly breathe. "You always have been. It's why you fell for me in the beginning. Why you fell for me _again_ when I came to Night Vale. And you need to watch out, because I am having to use _every_ ounce of my strength to keep from slipping back under the influence of this place. And if I do… you won't be able to stop me."

"I will," Carlos insists.

"Then do it," Kevin replies. "Right here, right now."

"Right now? You're pinning me to the wall!"

"Yes I am. It isn't my fault you weren't paying attention before. You've gotten yourself pinned and if you don't do something fast, this is going to end _badly_."

Carlos' mind races. Kevin can't seriously be asking to be _attacked_ , right?

Maybe he can.

But how are you supposed to attack one of the men you love, and doubly-so when you'd rather _like_ him to keep pinning you to the wall for reasons you're still not exactly good at engaging with but don't deny quite so much anymore?

…Maybe he'd better try.

Carlos relaxes, knowing how hard it is to fight force with force – and, indeed, knowing some of the equations that prove it – and tries to take a deep breath without _looking_ like he is. And then… then he tries to twist out of Kevin's grip whilst simultaneously giving him a good, sharp kick. He's relatively confident it connects, but it's hard to be sure of much because Kevin has him on the ground in seconds, flat on his back and pinned once more, and merciful _Einstein_ it is now _impossible_ to concentrate.

"See what I mean?" Kevin asks, far too calmly. "The fact of the matter is simple, Carlos. You like Cecil because he makes you feel safe. And you like me because I _don't_. And I _will_ use that against you if I lose control again."

"You _won't_ lose control again," Carlos replies, trying to mirror the other man's calm tone even though he doesn't feel it. "It only happened last time because Strex got hold of you and took you to the Bloodstone. So long as you're with us… you're safe."

Kevin's voice wavers just slightly as he speaks, and his eyes flick off to the side for a second. "You can't know that for sure."

"No. But in my experience, there's very little you can _actually_ know for sure. Most of it is just degrees of certainty and lack of evidence to the contrary. So… maybe you should just start trusting in me, and in Cecil, and stop blaming yourself for what Strex made you do."

Now Kevin's expression is cracking into something much more vulnerable. "You don't even know the worst of it," he whispers, leaning in closer. "It feels _good_. All of this morning, when they had me, when _I_ had _you_ … it felt amazing. And some part of me… some part of me _wants_ to sink back into that, even as the rest of me is fighting it with all I have."

Carlos arches up as much as he can when he's pinned like this. "Then we just need to find other ways to make you feel amazing," he replies. "Until those thoughts are driven so far out of your head that they'll _never_ get back in." And then… then he dares himself to add, in a whisper, "…And if you need to indulge the darkness a little, _indulge it_. I'm not scared of you."

Kevin surges down over him all at once, kissing him hard. _Hard_. Carlos gasps as the kiss breaks, all the air knocked from his lungs, and he stares up at the man on top of him in dizzy hope.

"You mean it?" Kevin whispers. His eyes seem even blacker in the low light, and wide with sudden need.

"Of course I mean it," Carlos answers. "Although," and he manages a little grin now, "Cecil won't be pleased with you if he finds out you had sex with me in Naomi's hallway."

"Who said anything about having sex with you here?" Kevin replies, nipping at his lips. "I'm taking you back to bed – and back to Cecil – for that part. Right now… I'm just going to give you a little taster of how _wicked_ I can be…"

He kisses Carlos again, over and over, but gentler this time… the kind of soft, breathy kisses that leave him desperate for more, arching up and trying to claim it, even as Kevin pushes him down. And he is gloriously, _gloriously_ caught; flat on his back with the other man straddling his hips, pinning his wrists above his head with one hand, and still pressing that blade to his neck with the other.

" _Please_ ," Carlos whispers. "Please."

"Relax," Kevin replies, though there's an edge of danger to his tone that would make any sane person _not_ relax. "You're not going anywhere until I let you…"

He nods a few times, gently, hypnotically, and Carlos finds himself doing the same… until Kevin starts to trace that blade down over his neck and across his chest, at which point his whole body goes tense. It's hard not to. He's topless – they both are – which means that the threatening kiss of the metal is directly against his skin, and for a moment all he can hear is the roar of his own heartbeat.

" _Relax_ ," Kevin insists again. "This will feel _so_ good when you let it…"

It feels pretty damnably good now. Carlos' eyes drift shut, and he knows he's starting to calm down. Knows that the thunder of his heartbeat is starting to reduce to a slower, almost comforting echo, like the double-tick of a clock, beating out ceaseless, non-existent time. And that blade… _oh_ , that blade is slipping across his skin like the deadliest caress, tracing along the curve of his shoulder and over his chest, slow and endless, again and again…

" _Please_ ," he whispers once more, though he's not entirely certain what he's asking for. Or… he is, and can't quite engage with it yet. "I… I…"

"Say it," Kevin replies, so soft and sure, and maybe he understands precisely what Carlos hasn't yet given voice to. Maybe he's understood all along. Maybe that's the point.

Maybe Carlos is overthinking this in order to avoid saying what he needs to say.

" _Please_ ," he repeats, knowing this isn't it. Knowing this won't be enough.

"Come on, now," Kevin pushes, leaning in so he's only a breath away, and tracing the edge of the knife up the centre of Carlos' throat again. "I won't do it until you say it. And trust me… you _will_ say it."

Oh yes. Oh dear. He does know. He knows _exactly_ what it is.

"I… Kevin, I…"

The blade slips gently across his chest once more, tracing the contours of his collarbone, and sliding down to brush oh-so-lightly over a nipple. And _that_ just makes Carlos' eyes roll right back in his head, the world seeming to go white… and the crucial word finally, mercifully, desperately slipping out.

"… _Harder_ …"

Kevin's expression lights up, or Carlos imagines that it does, because right now he's not at all certain he can actually see. "Say _please_ ," the other man pushes, carefully-suppressed triumph in his tone.

" _Please_."

And all of a sudden… the blade presses in harder. It isn't enough to break the skin, but he's confident it isn't far off. And now… now the feeling as it moves isn't so much a caress as a firm, possessive touch; every sensation seeming to push him further down inside his own mind, warm and dangerous and lovely.

"You like that?" Kevin asks, the words somehow distant and insistent at the same time.

" _Yes_ ," Carlos manages, as if it's the surest truth in the universe. Maybe it is. Some things make so very much sense when he just calms down and accepts them… like the idea of being in love with two men at the same time, or the fact that living in the world's most scientifically-impossible town really is more fun than he first expected.

Or the fact that he wants things he can't always admit at first. Especially to himself.

"And what do you say?"

" _Thank you_."

"Oh no, Carlos. Thank _you_."

Kevin leans in to kiss him again, slow and gentle and loving now, and it feels so good that Carlos flat-out whimpers when the kiss breaks, somehow managing to stare up at Kevin, eyes imploring him not to stop.

He doesn't even realise how much he's surrendered; that Kevin is no longer holding his wrists, that when he presses in close they're nigh-on breathing in unison. He can't even feel the danger anymore; the fear at what they're facing, the worry about what is to come. All he feels… is this. Certain. Safe. Held. Wanted.

 _Caught_. And loving it.

The next few minutes… are they minutes? Carlos doesn't know. All he knows is that some approximation of time passes, and in it… in it he just surges on the ceaseless ebb and flow of Kevin's touch. Of the trail of warm metal against his skin. He forgets the fear, forgets his own vulnerability, unconsciously choosing to let it all drift away, lost in the sea of the other man's will.

He's gone. Completely gone. But it isn't like the previous morning. It isn't like the way that broken song slipped into his mind, oh no. This is something so much better, so much more amazing. This… is trust, utter and absolute.

And there is nothing in the world more freeing.

"Carlos…" Kevin whispers. "You look so beautiful like this… and guess what?"

"…What..?" Carlos manages.

Kevin smiles, but there's only warmth in it now. "You have an audience."

It takes a second for Carlos' mind to process the words, and then he slowly turns his head to the side, looking over towards the stairs… and jumping just a little when he realises Cecil is sitting there, about halfway up, arms on his knees, watching the pair of them with a smile on his face.

Carlos blushes slightly. "…How long..?" he asks.

"Since the point when you hit the floor," Cecil answers, calmly.

"He seemed a little worried at first," Kevin adds. "But then… he just sat down and watched. I'm surprised you didn't notice all the looks I kept giving him…"

"I was a bit distracted," Carlos points out, by way of an excuse. And because it's true. And likely still is.

"I could tell," Cecil replies. "That may be one of the most _beautiful_ things I've ever seen."

Carlos blushes rather more, and even Kevin seems to be going a little pink.

"Come back to bed?" Cecil asks. "I need you both very much."

This sounds like an extremely lovely idea. Apparently Kevin agrees, because he rises smoothly to his feet, re-sheathing his knife, and then reaches down to pull Carlos upright. And that's… OK, whoa, is the world supposed to look so hazy..?

"I've got you," Kevin reassures him. "I won't let you fall."

Right now, he feels like the only thing keeping Carlos upright, and after a moment Kevin has to pull Carlos' arm over his shoulder, other arm around his waist, so as to support him. And that's lovely too.

Cecil moves in to help, and between them they guide Carlos back up the stairs, and into their room. Once they're in, Kevin graciously hands Carlos to Cecil, and Carlos finds himself curling tight into the other man's arms, the warmth of his body feeling like the only grounding he has right now.

"How did you do that?" Cecil says to Kevin.

Kevin gives a little shrug. "I have skills. And Carlos has tastes. I've never tried _that_ before, though…"

Cecil grins, and tugs Kevin in too. "Maniac," he murmurs, but very warmly.

"That's why you love me," Kevin replies, giving him a quick kiss.

They move over to the bed, which means Carlos finally gets to drop down onto it, lying comfortably on his back again whilst the other two press in either side of him. He needs them. To be fair, he _always_ needs them, but right now that need is so strong it _burns_. He needs them the way the Standard Model needs the Higgs boson.

Nothing makes sense without it.

" _Please_ ," he whispers, staring in what he hopes is a vaguely-endearing sort of way, rather than an out-of-his-mind sort of way. Though it's possible the two correlate more than a little right now.

"Shhh," Kevin replies, stroking gently down Carlos' cheek with a single fingertip. "Relax… and trust me. Trust _us_."

He tugs Cecil in, over Carlos, and kisses him firm and quick. When the kiss breaks, however, he drags Cecil in closer still, whispering something into his ear for a long moment. Eventually, Cecil smiles, and then he pulls back with a nod. "You read my mind," he says.

"Hopefully not," Carlos murmurs. "I don't think I can cope if you two learn how to do that…"

It would probably be a great deal of fun too, however. He wouldn't stand a _chance_.

Oh, that's a lovely thought…

Kevin laughs softly. "Who's to say we haven't already..?" he whispers, eyes alight with that wicked little flicker that makes Carlos' heart race… and doubly-so when he can see it reflected in Cecil's expression too. And then, without another word, Kevin starts to slowly kiss his way down Carlos' body, tongue darting out to tease at exposed, vulnerable and – right now – surprisingly sensitive skin.

" _Oh_ ," Carlos murmurs, mind already starting to drift again. "Yes… yes… please… I…"

It's at this point that Cecil presses in to kiss him, and any further words are lost as a soft, hopeful sound against the other man's lips. He kisses _just_ the way Carlos likes the most… deep and careful and insistent at the same time, and coupled with the attention he's getting from Kevin, he already feels like he's in heaven.

But it's only the beginning. Kevin moves all at once, slipping lower and sliding Carlos' pyjama trousers off with remarkable efficiency (born of too much practice) before going down on him. And it feels so _insanely_ good that Carlos cries out, his words lost against Cecil's lips but his meaning still more than obvious.

He _wants_. He wants so much, so badly, that his mind can hardly process it. He wants them to pull him so completely apart that all he can remember is his name, and how much he loves them. Or maybe just the latter. And that's an odd thing for a scientist to want, but by _Einstein_ , he wants it.

Cecil slides a little lower too, now starting to circle one of Carlos' nipples with a single fingertip. It's all he needs to do to get a _very_ appreciative moan out of Carlos, and he clearly knows it. Though when he chooses to repeat the action using his tongue… Carlos' mind goes sky-high.

" _Please!_ " he cries out. "Yes, yes, like that, please don't stop…"

"Carlos, Carlos," Cecil whispers, "we've barely even started…"

And the wicked edge to _his_ tone just… overturns the world. It's as though everything flips around and goes slow, and bright, and reality-affirmingly wonderful.

And like before, when that knife was tracing patterns across his skin, Carlos finds himself just _surrendering_ beneath the two of them. There's nothing alarming about it, though; nothing threatening. It feels so completely _right_.

"I love you," he whispers, and even his own voice sounds distant now. "I love you both so much."

"We know," Cecil reassures him, kissing the curve of his neck. "We know."

Kevin now starts to slowly kiss his way back up Carlos' body, finally pressing in to nip at his lips. "You are positively _delicious_ when you're like this," he says, voice rough with need. "And you," he adds, now looking at Cecil, "I want you so very, _very_ badly."

Cecil grins, leaning in to kiss him, eyes alight with pleasure. "Good," he replies, so soft and sure. "Because I want you too."

This gets him a deeply wicked smile from Kevin, and _oh_ but they are _so_ doing this deliberately, and Carlos can only hope that they won't stop. Ever.

The two doubles kiss once more, and then both of them move, and this is clearly something Kevin planned when he was whispering to Cecil before, because the pair of them know exactly where they're going. They pause a moment, just long enough to strip off their pyjama trousers, and then Cecil presses in between Carlos' legs, with Kevin wrapping around Cecil from behind and starting to stroke him. And… mind somewhat delirious, Carlos is nevertheless aware that Kevin appears to have gotten hold of lubricant from somewhere and… seriously, how well-stocked did Naomi make this room?

He's not sure whether to be alarmed or pleased but, for the moment, settles on pleased. Because… because _wow_ , that is hot to watch, especially when Cecil arches back so Kevin can kiss along his jaw from behind, and…

Yes. Merciful Einstein, yes. People who aren't having sex with two chiral doubles do _not_ realise what they're missing.

Watching is, however, difficult when you're blazing with need and more than a little off your head. Carlos stares up at the two of them, eyes pleading, trying to articulate the thoughts in his mind and finding it rather more difficult than he might have expected.

Kevin laughs softly, giving Cecil a firm stroke that makes the man arch back against him all the more. "We won't do it until you say it," he murmurs, and it's hard to know what causes the greatest stab of arousal in Carlos at that: the words themselves, the soft certainty in Kevin's voice… or just the way the two men on top of him look right now. "And, trust me… you _will_ say it…"

And Carlos feels his mind flip over backwards again, into the wonderful blackness beyond the world. " _Please_ ," he hears himself whisper, distant and certain. "I need you. I need both of you. _I'm all yours_."

Cecil curls in over him at that, eyes dark with pleasure but somehow never losing the warmth and care that always registers in them as well. "Yes," he whispers back. "Yes. And we have you."

Which is when Cecil starts to slowly push into him, a hand on the side of his face, gentle and careful. It still makes Carlos gasp out loud, wrapping his arms up around Cecil in response and holding on.

" _Beautiful_ ," he hears Kevin whisper. He shifts position, pressing in closer behind Cecil for a moment and then he can feel the way the other man's hips move as Kevin slowly slides into him.

" _Yes_ ," Cecil gasps, at exactly the same time as Carlos. "Oh, you both feel _amazing_ …"

Carlos is rapidly losing any lingering grip on coherence. He loves being with the pair of them in any combination, but there's nothing he loves more than having both of them on top of him at the same time. And as they start to move, all he can do is lie beneath them and luxuriate in it, in the sensation, the feeling, the need, the _adoration_.

They love him. They _have_ him. And he's drifting on black waves of bliss, caught in their arms, held and…

…oh… _oh_ …

Kevin whispers something to Cecil, getting a nod in return, and he leans in, taking hold of Cecil's hands and then guiding them to grip Carlos' hands, and then pressing them into the pillows, either side of his head, pinning him down completely. And _that_ alone feels so damnably, wonderfully amazing that the whole world goes hazy for a moment, Carlos' eyes rolling up and then snapping back to stare in rapture at the two men on top of him.

Cecil has never held him quite like this. Kevin has, and of course the two of them have done it together, but the look in Cecil's eyes as _he_ finally does it is… incredible. More than that. Cecil is staring down at him, and Carlos knows the look in his own eyes is exactly the same as the one he must have had before, when he was with Kevin, on the floor in the hallway, and the fact that Cecil is seeing it too, right now…

Maybe it's relief, in the other man's eyes. Maybe joy. Maybe both. And maybe… something far more complicated as well.

And suddenly… they're both moving, the pair of them a reality-defining force of nature, holding him, _loving_ him, loving each other, and the world drops away, becoming only this, only here, only them; caught not on a wave of blackness any longer but a wave of starlight; the beautiful intricacies of the universe writ large in the very air they breathe.

" _Please_ ," Carlos somehow manages to whisper. "Yes… oh yes… I love you…"

" _We love you too_ ," both doubles whisper in unison, and it's still scary when they do that. Scary and amazing.

…But he likes scary, doesn't he? Maybe he has all along.

Carlos wants this moment to last forever. Wants to be lost completely in the way it all feels; in the way his two lovers look at him. In the way he looks at them. In the way they hold each other and keep each other and need each other.

No moment can last forever. Even with the non-existence of time. That's why you have to have _plenty_ of moments instead… though the truth is, it will be hard to top this one.

And Carlos knows it; knows it deep down, a truth as fundamental as subatomic particles or thermodynamics or strange, wonderful entropy: this is it, this is them, this is right. This is home. Not a town, not a building, not a room, but _here_. This. Them.

Always them.

He cries out as he comes, the first of the three, the bliss racing through him in wave after wave, giving way to the strangest sense of peace; a peace that runs to the very depth of his being, and a stillness that only the kiss of that knife has ever provoked before. He's whispering their names before it's all over: not ecstatic shouts but murmured promises, again and again.

I love you. I love you.

And the other two, arms wrapped around each other, around him, somehow manage to come almost in unison; matching cries that cut the air, Kevin with his face pressed into the crook of Cecil's neck, and Cecil arching back to let him, and though this is hardly the first time Carlos has seen the two of them like this, it's somehow the most perfect. They curl over him as their own climaxes start to fade, all three of them collapsing into a tangle of soft breath and slow kisses.

It's a long moment before any of them can move. Eventually – because they can't sleep like this (though they'd try otherwise) – Kevin pulls back and lies down beside Carlos, leaving Cecil free to do the same on Carlos' other side. And Carlos… Carlos is not sure what has happened to the world, because it's all so still and quiet and lovely and at the same time it's as though he can feel every molecule in his body shaking with happiness. He's vaguely aware of being rolled onto his side, and then Kevin is gathering him in close whilst Cecil spoons in against his back, and they hold him between them.

Carlos tries to say something. He doesn't need to say much; just 'I love you' or 'that was amazing' or 'please do that again sometime very soon'. But there seems to be some sort of disconnect between his mind and the rest of him, because the words somehow won't actualise, even if inside his head still feels very lucid.

That doesn't worry him, though. Not in the slightest. Right now… right now, nothing does. He tries for words again after a moment and manages a vaguely incoherent murmur, but little more.

It's enough to make Kevin smile, though. "Was that good?" he whispers.

Words are hard. Words require all kinds of complicated things like syllables and sound and context. Carlos settles for what he hopes is an emphatic nod.

Kevin laughs, very warmly, eyes flicking up to meet Cecil's.

"…I think we broke him," Cecil says, though he doesn't exactly sound concerned.

"Oh, Cecil, this is hardly breaking," Kevin points out, getting that wicked little flicker in his eyes that is all kinds of awesome… and is it Carlos' imagination, or was _Cecil_ trying to provoke it this time? "I can _do_ breaking, though. Maybe one night when all this is over, I'll show you…"

Carlos gives an involuntary shudder of delight at the idea.

"…and I think we can take it as a given that Carlos will approve…" Kevin adds.

And from the way Cecil is now holding onto Carlos, there's a good chance he'll approve too. Even if he might not admit it outright at first either. "That thing you did before… how did you even…?"

Kevin gives a little shrug. "Knife-wielding maniac from the town drenched in blood, remember?" he says.

Though of course this is not really the answer at all. But… some answers apparently don't need to be said out loud.

Even if you used to think they did.

They lie quietly for another moment, and Carlos is immensely glad of all the arms around him. A lingering shiver of need runs through his body, and the others clearly feel it because they both tighten their hold.

"I don't know what I'd do without the two of you," Kevin murmurs, suddenly.

"And you'll never have to find out," Cecil whispers back.

And that's the crux of it, in the end. None of them has to face what is to come alone. And that… that makes all the difference.

"…Love you both…" Carlos finally manages, though he has to take quite a mental run-up to get the words out.

Kevin smiles, and Cecil kisses the back of his neck.

" _We love you too_ ," they whisper. In unison.

And Carlos is never going to get tired of them doing that.


	7. What You Did In The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should warn you in advance: this chapter gets quite violent in places. And be prepared for blood...

_In the end everything collides_  
_My childhood spat back out the monster that you see_  
_My songs know what you did in the dark_

~ Fall Out Boy: _'My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark'_

***

The next morning… everything still feels a strange sort of wonderful. It forms an odd contrast to what the rest of the day looks set to hold, and Carlos is not entirely sure what he thinks of that.

Naomi makes them breakfast. Darla is apparently not allowed to cook since 'the incident' – best not to ask – but thankfully Naomi is more than capable of handling it on her own. Carlos is sort of surprised that she doesn't have minions to do it for her, but the fact that she doesn't just makes him like her even more. And… OK, yes, that's still difficult, though this doesn't mean he ignores it.

Breakfast itself is an unusual affair. Wheat and wheat by-products aren't illegal in Desert Bluffs, which means that Cecil gets rather inordinately excited by the prospect of toast ("Just don't tell the Secret Police, OK?") and then persuades Carlos to explain why it always lands butter-side down when you drop it.

This takes rather longer than it should, though Carlos is spared from having to give the practical portion of the lesson by the sound of Naomi's cellphone ringing.

"Hello?" she says, taking the call. "Oh, Lawrence, hi. Yes, yes, you're clear to come over. Did it all go according to plan? Excellent. Excellent. We'll see you shortly."

And she hangs up. "That was Lawrence. He's picked up your friends, and they're on their way here."

"Imagine my delight," Cecil remarks, dryly, though he can't quite hide the flicker of relief at this news all the same. Much as he and Steve don't get on, Carlos is confident that Cecil would still be genuinely unhappy if something bad happened to the man.

***

It isn't too much longer before there's a knocking at the front door, and they head into the central hall whilst Naomi lets their guests in. Carlos tries not to blush _too_ much at being in here again, even if the memories of last night are _very_ strong indeed.

Three people hurry in through the open door: Steve Carlsberg, Frederick the scientist, and a man who looks absolutely identical to Larry Leroy. And even having _more_ than a little experience with alternate doubles, it's still weird every time Carlos meets another one.

"Lawrence, we owe you for this," Naomi says at once.

"Oh, don't mention it, dear," Lawrence answers, beaming. "Always glad to help." He glances at his two companions. "Steve, Frederick, this is Naomi and her wife Darla."

He doesn't mention their surname, though. Interesting.

At this point, Steve launches himself at Kevin, then seems to realise halfway through that he's got the wrong one and rounds on Cecil instead, which reduces the impact somewhat. "And you!" he exclaims, glaring at his brother-in-law once he's worked out which one his brother-in-law actually is. "Have you gone completely insane this time? You ran off to _Desert Bluffs?!_ "

"I _told_ you why, Steve!" Cecil replies. "We came to rescue Kevin's sister and events sort of spiralled from there."

"They have a _habit_ of doing that around you," Steve says, with a pointed look at Kevin and Carlos.

Cecil glowers. "And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean that life would be a lot easier for all of us if you just stayed home and did your job rather than getting involved in all these… _things_."

"And life would be a lot easier if _you_ got a _proper_ job instead of one picked solely because it gives you plenty of free time to stalk the government via Twitter!"

"I do not stalk the government via Twitter," Steve protests. "I'll have you know, I am a _prominent_ user of the Dark Net and you might have some _real_ news to report if you actually listened to me once in a while…"

They both glare at each other rather more.

"All done, now?" Kevin asks, brightly.

"Not even close!" Cecil insists.

Kevin looks at Carlos. "Surely _this_ time you agree with me on getting them a ring of jello?"

"…I'm beginning to," Carlos has to admit.

"We have a ring of blood," Darla chips in, brightly. "You could borrow that."

"…I think I'll pass," says Cecil, dryly. "Look, Steve, just… just shush for a minute and listen. This… this happened. Getting mad about it won't help."

"You're not the one who had to tell Caitlin where you were going," Steve points out, with a serious flicker in his eyes. "I had to explain where you'd gone, and where I was going, and needless to say she was less than delighted. She said – and I quote – 'if either of you don't come back alive, I'll kill you'. So you darn well better be careful."

Cecil looks like he's going to say something else, but then he pauses, takes a deep breath, and then instead goes with, "…OK. Look. Fine. I get it. I shall try very hard not to die, and not to let you die. Can we focus now?"

"…Fine," Steve replies. "Fine. So. You're trying to lead a rebellion in the heart of Strexville?"

"Pretty much," says Cecil, with a little shrug. "It just sort of… happened. First, though, we've got to get Kevin's sister, Kirsten, out of prison. And for that part… we need your help."

"Me? What do you need me for?"

"You know your way around a computer, yes?"

"With both eyes shut and one hand tied behind my back."

"Hopefully not. Well. We have a plan. We have a plan, and it requires the services of… what did you call yourself? A _'prominent user of the Dark Net'_."

"…You want a computer hacker?"

Cecil rubs a hand over his eyes. "Yes, Steve. We want a computer hacker."

"To break Caitlin's double out of prison?"

"Exactly."

Steve gives an offhand shrug. "Easy."

"I wish you were always this helpful…" Cecil mutters.

Before Steve can reply to this, however, Carlos decides now might be the best time to move the conversation along. "Frederick," he says, as brightly as he can manage. "I'm glad you made it too. Any problems with the team?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Frederick replies. "Toby was… not the _most_ happy I've ever seen him, but he said he'll keep things going until you get back. He also said something about how you're not allowed to die."

"There's a lot of that going around," Carlos murmurs, glancing at Steve.

"I'm not sure why you need me, though," Frederick goes on.

"We need an expert on mystical rocks, and you know I don't do mystical rocks. Not _science-y_ enough. You, on the other hand…"

"…once had a fifteen-minute mental duel with a sentient crystal and managed to talk it out of creating a small volcano in the centre of town," Frederick completes, with a grin. "Yeah. That was a _fun_ day. But why do you need a mystical rock expert?"

"…I think maybe Naomi should field this one," Carlos answers, before glancing over at her.

Naomi gives a gracious nod. "All right. There is an object at the centre of Desert Bluffs: a huge, red rock… well, crystal… called the Bloodstone."

"Bloodstone?!" Frederick repeats. "I thought your people tried to outlaw those?"

"They… we… tried to outlaw what you call bloodstones," Naomi replies. "The rock at the centre of Desert Bluffs is… so very much more, and to a lot of people here what you have are shallow approximations at best. Bordering on blasphemy. The Bloodstone is very, very powerful, and right now there's a plan in place to make it _more_ so. It is what gives the people of Desert Bluffs their distinct… personality. Moreover, there's a second one, lying dormant under Night Vale, and we believe Strex's ultimate plan is to use ours to power up yours, thereby making Night Vale… rather more _compatible_ with Desert Bluffs."

"…You mean 'turning it into another blood-soaked pit of insanity'?" Steve asks, though his voice is deadly serious.

"…Yes," Naomi concedes. "So. We believe it would be in all our best interests to destroy the Bloodstone in Desert Bluffs, thereby nullifying the risk to Night Vale as well as… promoting a change of regime here."

"You're trying to take down Strex?" Frederick says, incredulous.

"Yep," Carlos replies, trying to sound more confident about the whole situation than he feels. "That's the long and the short of it. And we need your expertise to work out how we deal with the Bloodstone."

"Can I see it?" Frederick now asks.

Carlos' blood goes suddenly cold. See it? See the Bloodstone? All this time, he hasn't engaged with the idea of actually _seeing_ the thing, and now he does… it's a rather horrifying prospect.

"I can arrange it," Naomi replies. "It will require a _great_ deal of care, however. If we go wandering about round there… the chance of being noticed is _high_. It will need to be at night, and we won't be able to stay long. Even looking at it can have alarming psychological effects. You _certainly_ can't go near it."

"Is this thing really _that_ dangerous?" Steve asks, looking a little incredulous.

" _Yes_ ," Kevin answers. "Trust me, it is." And he sounds so serious that even Steve doesn't argue.

"Does it have anything to do with that _weird_ humming?" Frederick asks. "It's hard for me to tell for sure without a few tests, but the sound has a very _psychic_ resonance to it."

"Oh, you're good," Kevin says. "Yes, it has _everything_ to do with the humming. It _is_ the humming."

"So… it's not going to stop?" Steve asks.

Kevin shakes his head. "Not any time soon. And if the humming becomes anything _more_ than a hum… you need to tell us."

"Anything _more_?" Steve repeats.

"Yes. Like a song. If you ever hear the song… that's a bad sign. The clearer it is… the more this place has hold of you."

Even Steve shivers a little. "…Noted," he says, carefully. "Can… any of you..?"

"I can," Kevin answers. "All the time. And Carlos…"

"…Most of the time," Carlos adds.

"Because you used to live here?" There's no accusation in Steve's voice. Not now.

"Yes. Because I used to live here."

There's an odd silence. It's just starting to get heavy when Kevin claps his hands together once, expression suddenly bright. "Lawrence, where are my manners? I don't think you've met Cecil and Carlos before…"

"I haven't, but I know you by reputation," Lawrence replies, just as brightly, before reaching to shake their hands one at a time. "I remember when the first rumours about what you were doing over in Night Vale filtered through, and I knew it was going to start an _unprecedented_ landslide in Desert Bluffs. And now… here we are!"

"Here we are indeed," Cecil says. "So you've been… waiting for this?"

Lawrence nods. "Oh yes. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone chose to act on it, and I so hoped they would be smart enough to get you involved. This is our big chance… and I'm not the only one who thinks the same way. I've been slowly building up a list of contacts, of like-minded people who want to see Strex removed from Desert Bluffs."

"When the time comes… those are the people we'll be calling on," Naomi replies. "For now, we need to concentrate on our first problem: breaking Kirsten out of prison."

"But don't worry," Kevin says, in a bright tone hinted with a far more ominous edge, "we have a plan…"

***

Carlos is not sure where the day goes. A lot of it is spent on preparing said aforementioned plan, right down to Frederick (and, OK, Carlos too) concocting what Frederick refers to as his 'night-time special': a rather potent knock-out gas that "Only very rarely has mutagenic side-effects, honest."

But it's the best they've got.

By the time evening rolls around, almost everyone is on edge. Naomi isn't happy about not being able to go with them. Darla isn't happy because "How was I supposed to know it would wake up so fast?" (best not to ask), Steve isn't happy because "Caitlin will kill me if I die," and Cecil isn't happy because Steve keeps pointing this out to him.

Frederick seems alarmingly calm, though given that the man basically has no ability to process danger, this isn't a surprise.

And Kevin… well. Kevin also seems calm, and remarkably cheery, but Carlos knows this is all covering behaviour. He can tell by the way the other man keeps resting his hand on the hilt of his knife. By the way his expression sometimes goes distant and Carlos _knows_ he's running through possibilities in his head.

By the way he keeps flexing his palms as if he's yearning to summon that demon of his.

Carlos is not calm at the best of times, so by this point he basically feels like he needs sedating, and the temptation to test out Frederick's 'night-time special' is a lot stronger than it should be.

It's almost a mercy when Naomi looks up at the clock, a couple of hours after sunset. "It's time," she says. "The five of you should get going. And… please, for the love of Ozhen'ipleth, be careful."

"We will, Naomi," Kevin promises. "We will."

***

Taking Naomi's black van – which helpfully (and understandably) blends in because it's identical to the ones used by Strex – they go down into Desert Bluffs and across town, heading for the western outskirts. It's here that Sunbeam Ridge is located and, just beneath it, the detention facility where Kirsten is being held.

Kevin drives, following a carefully chosen and not at all direct route in order to confuse anyone who might be watching, finally heading out into the scrublands beyond town. He parks a little way off from their destination, keeping them concealed behind an outcrop of rocks, and they all pause in the dim light, in the back of the van.

"This is it," Kevin says. "Are you ready?"

Carlos does not feel ready at all, but they have to do this. They have to. He nods, at the same time as Cecil.

"Yes," Cecil replies, in the voice he uses when he's trying to be brave. "Yes, we're ready."

"OK," Kevin says. "Frederick, Steve, wait for our signal. If anything goes wrong, take the van and get out of here."

"And leave you behind?" Steve answers, studiously avoiding Cecil's eyes. "Not a chance."

Kevin gives him something of a look. "If we get caught…"

"…If you get caught, we'll get you out, too," Steve says, firmly. "Right, Frederick?"

"Right," Frederick agrees. "I do wish I'd brought the death ray though…"

Carlos facepalms. Steve looks interested. "You are going to have to tell me more about this death ray of yours…"

"…We should get going," Cecil cuts in, pointedly, looking like he'd much rather face a wall of Strex enforcers than put up with Steve any longer.

The three of them – Cecil, Carlos and Kevin – step out of the van into the warm, dark air. It's just a short walk from where they are to the external perimeter of the detention facility, but every step is going to be terrifying.

"We need to make this look good," Kevin points out. "Those guards need to be absolutely convinced that I've captured the two of you and am bringing you in."

Cecil doesn't look happy. He's obviously not going to argue – because this is the plan – but he's clearly not thrilled by it.

He isn't the only one.

But Kevin is right. It _does_ need to look good. And that's why, as they come around the end of the ridge and start heading towards the outer checkpoint, Kevin is now walking with Carlos held close, blade to his neck, whilst Cecil walks nearby with his hands held up.

He doesn't have to feign the worried expression, that's for sure. Though some terrible, treacherous part of Carlos' brain is coming up with thoughts that really _aren't_ helpful right now. Thoughts that the knife at his throat make so very much worse.

They pause, with nothing but moonlight illuminating the small building in front of them, built into a heavy metal fence.

"Hello?" Kevin calls out.

There's no response for a few seconds, and then a shutter opens in the side of the checkpoint building and a man looks over at them, a suspicious expression on his face.

"Hi there," Kevin says, in an overly-bright tone that's so shockingly reminiscent of what he was like yesterday morning that Carlos can't help feeling a little cold. "I wonder if you might help me. I have a pair of _very_ important fugitives I'd like to hand in."

"Don't I know you?" says the guard.

"Sure you do!" Kevin answers. "I'm Kevin. You know, from the radio?"

"I thought so. I heard you were back in town. Glad you came to your senses."

"I _know_ , right? I could never stay away from Desert Bluffs for long. I love the place too much! But Strexcorp was just _delighted_ to have me back – understandably so! – and I've been working for Lauren Mallard ever since."

The name-drop is a nice touch, Carlos thinks, although Kevin sounds so convincing that it's hard to concentrate, because…

…OK, no, don't think that. Don't think that even for a second.

" _Anyway_ ," Kevin goes on, "as you can see I have two _dangerous_ fugitives in custody: Cecil and Carlos, from Night Vale. They've been trying to stir up _treasonous_ activities here in Desert Bluffs, but I've put a stop to that. Can I bring them in?"

The guard looks a little torn. "I'm not supposed to let anyone into the facility without orders."

"I know," Kevin replies, suddenly so very understanding. "Of course I do. But I'm working _directly_ for Lauren Mallard, so… this pretty much _is_ an order."

Carlos closes his eyes and counts to twenty-two. In base four. Because that tone is _terribly_ distracting.

"…All right," the guard concedes, after a long moment. "I'll open the gate and call for the backup unit."

"Not necessary!" Kevin points out, brightly.

"Protocol!" the guard replies, suddenly just as bright.

There's a heavy, metallic clunk and a section of the fence in front of them starts to slide to the side. They head on through it – Carlos trying not to pay attention to the ominous clang when it shuts behind them – and are shortly met by the guard, standing with his arms folded, looking them up and down.

"Well, well," he says. "This certainly is a turn-out for the books. Is there a finder's fee?"

"Only the knowledge of having done your town and your employer proud," Kevin answers. "But who could ask for anything more?"

"Who indeed?" the guard replies, though he looks like he could definitely ask for more. "Right. Follow me. I'll take you inside the main facility and the backup squad will meet us there."

"Perfect!" Kevin agrees.

And in they go. The main building – which is built directly into the side of the ridge – looks ominous from the outside, but when they get _in_ … Carlos feels his stomach lurch with shock.

Cold, grey walls, streaked with blood. It's _frighteningly_ reminiscent of the _last_ Strexcorp detention facility he was in, only this time he doesn't have a comforting, reality-defying key tucked into his pocket.

"The backup unit will be with us in a moment," the guard says. "Then we can process these two in."

"I need to get in touch with Strexcorp headquarters," Kevin tells him. "Lauren will want to know about this as soon as possible." Keeping the blade over Carlos' throat, he slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out his cellphone. "Do you mind?"

"Oh, your phone won't work in here," the guard replies. "The whole place is warded against telecommunications signals. You know, for security reasons. But we have a direct line you can use."

"Wonderful. Could you show me now? I really don't want to keep Lauren waiting…"

The first-name-drops really are a nice touch, and they're clearly having an effect. "Uh, sure," the guard agrees, waving to a door just to the left, which is half-open and clearly leads into a side office. "What about these two?"

Kevin lets go of Carlos and paces closer to the guard. "Oh, they won't try anything," he says, that ominous edge returning to his tone. "This area is secure, after all, and if they _did_ try anything, it would lead to consequences involving me and this knife. Consequences _neither_ of them would enjoy."

Carlos wills himself not to blush. He hopes the dim light means he gets away with it.

"All right, then," the guard says, and waves Kevin through to the room beyond. "The direct line is just over–"

Mercifully, Carlos can't quite see what's going on. Unfortunately, he can still hear. There are… sounds, and then, there's silence.

And then Kevin emerges, knife still in hand, covered in more than a little blood. "That went well," he remarks. "You two all right?"

"Uh… yes," Cecil manages. "Yes. We're… we're fine…" He seems like he's fighting the urge to step in front of Carlos, though, and Carlos guesses that the look in Kevin's eyes is not helping with that. The man is… scary, when he gets like this.

"Great! Well, you may want to take a few steps back. Those other guys are going to be here any moment, and…"

The main door up ahead of them starts to clunk open. Cecil immediately grabs hold of Carlos and pulls him further away, just as four Strex enforcers walk into the room.

"What in the name of the Smiling God is going on in here..?" one of them starts out.

Carlos shuts his eyes and lets Cecil hold him in tight. It means he doesn't have to watch, and watching is _bad_ , because it's _one of his boyfriends killing people_.

And not for any other reasons.

Nope.

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time for everything to go silent. Either that, or the shock of the moment is too much for Carlos to process. When he uncurls from Cecil's arms and opens his eyes… the four enforcers are dead, and Kevin is standing over them, covered in rather more blood, knife in hand, looking high as a kite.

"…We could forego the rest of the plan and just kill everyone who gets in the way," he suggests.

"No, Kevin," Cecil replies, firmly. "You'll regret it when you come down."

"But it'll feel _great_ now."

" _No_ , Kevin."

"…Oh, _fine_ ," Kevin concedes, pouting at him. "We'd better call the others, then. Get the door open. Hopefully we can get cellphone reception if we're not in here."

They unlatch the main door and open it, stepping out into the warm night air again. Sure enough, their phones work once they're beyond the dark walls of the facility, and Cecil is able to get a call through to Steve.

"We're in! Come round now. And hurry, I don't know how long we have before someone realises what's going on."

They get the front gate open too, just in time to let in Steve and Frederick, who come hurrying over with a heavy metal canister carried between them.

Steve takes one look at Kevin and goes pale. "…You're covered in blood," he manages.

"Yeah, I know," Kevin replies, with a shrug. "Had to sort out some enforcers the old-fashioned way."

"…You realise he's a maniac, right?" Steve now tries saying to Cecil.

"Of course," says Cecil, flatly. "But he's _our_ maniac."

There's no arguing with this, and even Steve doesn't try. The five of them hurry back inside, which gets more alarmed looks from Steve when he's faced with the roomful of dead enforcers, although it doesn't faze Frederick at all.

"Your knifework is very impressive," he says to Kevin, conversationally. "You clearly know what you're doing."

"Well, thank you!" Kevin beams. The scary fact of the matter is that he _does_ tend to get rather high on power in situations like these, and it would be flatly terrifying were it not also as hot as all hell.

Best not to admit that right now, though. Or, you know, ever.

"Right," Steve says, in a moving-the-conversation-on-before-it-gets-worse sort of tone. "I need a computer and five minutes' peace."

"We can probably get you the computer," Cecil replies.

Steve narrows his eyes at him, but doesn't rise to it, and Carlos suspects they're both accepting that, at present, everyone is a little high-strung.

Everyone except Frederick, of course, who is now calmly examining the bodies.

"Frederick!" Carlos hisses. "That's biology, not science!"

Steve facepalms and decides to go look through the half-open door off to the side: the door that leads into that little office. He steps in, and there's a moment's silence.

"…Kevin?" he calls, finally.

"Hm?"

"Did you have to leave bodies _everywhere?_ "

"Oh, sorry, should have warned you about that one. Just move him if he's in the way."

Carlos shuts his eyes and counts to twenty-two in base four again. It's becoming a habit. Or possibly a coping-mechanism.

They open the door after a moment so they can watch what Steve is doing, as he settles at the computer. It's currently displaying a 3D rendering of the Strexcorp emblem, but Steve quickly gets rid of it and starts tapping away on the keyboard.

"Hmmm," he mutters, clearly to himself. "OK, so that's… yes, OK, right, and… seriously, who _wrote_ this OS? _Microsoft?_ Geez…"

He opens up a command line and starts typing rather faster. This seems to help.

"Well?" Cecil asks, after a moment. "Any luck?"

"Seriously, Cecil, give me a second," Steve answers. "I'm a prominent user of the Dark Net, but I'm no _Cyberghost616_."

"…And that should mean something to me because..?"

"It _would_ mean something to you if you took me seriously…"

"…Could you maybe argue a little louder? I don't think the enforcers at the far end of the building quite heard you!" Carlos exclaims, somewhat high-pitched.

Cecil looks at him, eyes full of worry. "Are you OK?"

"No! I'm not OK! I'm in a Strexcorp prison facility that's filled with bodies!"

Possibly he's freaking out more than he realised at first. Cecil puts a hand on his shoulder. "We'll be fine," he says, in one of his most convincing tones. "We got past the worst part."

But Carlos is not at all sure this is true.

"…Gotcha!" Steve exclaims, suddenly. "I'm in. I have full control of their systems. _I am a god that walks among men!_ "

"That sounds an awful lot like tempting fate to me," Kevin points out, super-calmly.

"Oh shush, I'd like to see you do this any faster," Steve retorts. "OK. According to the security readout, the main body of the facility – beyond that next door – is a long horseshoe-shaped corridor with cells all round, then a larger guard-post and a… _Room of Questioning_ at the far end. And no, Kevin, I don't want to know. I have total access to the facility's environmental controls, so all I need to do is isolate the cells and that room out there, and… right. Got it. Now we just need to flood the corridors with Frederick's night-time special…"

"If the main corridor is continuous, that part's easy," Frederick says. "Kevin… if you wouldn't mind? For backup?"

They head out into the central room again and – knife at the ready – Kevin opens the door leading deeper into the facility. There's no one in sight beyond, though, which means they have no trouble hauling the gas canister through and standing it on the smooth concrete ground.

"Right," Frederick now says, hand resting on the release at the top of the canister. "As soon as I set this off, we need to get back behind that door pretty quick. Ready?"

"Ready."

Frederick hits the release, there's a loud hiss, and the two of them immediately dive back through the door and slam it shut.

"Textbook!" Frederick exclaims. "Although… hmmm… we should probably block the bottom of the door, just to be on the safe side…"

Without blinking, Kevin drags over one of the bodies and pushes it into place. Frederick looks delighted. "You and I should swap ideas sometime!" he says.

"I don't think that would be sensible…" Carlos points out, giving Kevin a look that gets him something of a pout in return. Why the man goes _more_ adorable when he's killing people is hard to say, but he does. Perhaps more worrying is that he gets a fairly similar look from Frederick, and that's just not a mental road Carlos is prepared to go down.

They wait. It isn't an easy process. Frederick says it will take "Five minutes, max," but they give it ten, to allow plenty of time for the gas to dissipate again. They don't want to go knocking _themselves_ out, after all.

Lingering in a roomful of dead bodies is not an enjoyable experience. Carlos spends most of it trying to stop Kevin and Frederick from bonding over anything that might cause problems later on down the line, whilst Steve spends it poking around in the Strexcorp computer systems, with Cecil hovering at his shoulder, watching.

"I wish you were always this interested in my work," Steve grouses.

"I wish your work was always this interesting," Cecil retorts.

Sometimes it's best to leave them to it.

Eventually, Frederick goes over to the door. "I think we should be clear," he says.

"You're sure?" Carlos asks.

"Well, not _sure_ , because you can't be sure of _anything_ , really, but pretty confident."

"Frederick!" Carlos exclaims. He pulls out his danger meter and glances at it, but the thing has pretty much been stuck all the way into the red since he got here, which means it isn't as helpful as it could be.

"Relax," Kevin insists. "If any of those enforcers are still conscious, I'll take care of them."

"That's what I'm afraid of…" Carlos mutters, as Kevin moves the body out of the way of the door and – knife at the ready once again – swings it open.

Beyond… is silence. The night-time special canister has long since finished discharging, and Kevin takes a few experimental lungfuls of air, looking around. "Seems safe to me," he says.

"Nothing about this is safe," Steve points out, as he and Cecil head over. "OK, so I got a prisoner manifest whilst I was poking about in their mainframe. This place is designed to hold twenty, but only fifteen of the cells are occupied. Your Kirsten is in number thirteen."

"How appropriate," Frederick murmurs.

"Right," Kevin says. "We get to Kirsten first. Once we have her, we can free the others."

The five of them set off together, moving down the dark corridor and staying close. Kevin leads the way, and he looks like he's practically _eager_ for someone to leap out and give him an excuse for another fight.

Mercifully, no one does, but things are quite bad enough as they are. The facility continues to be alarmingly reminiscent of the one Carlos and Cecil escaped from several weeks previously, except that there are doors on both sides, and also this place – so far – seems to obey the laws of physics.

And soon, the dark passageway also starts to contain unconscious enforcers, slumped against the blood-streaked walls. This is a significant step up from _conscious_ enforcers, but it's still a little creepy all the same.

"They're going to be out a while, right?" Cecil whispers.

"Oh yes," Frederick replies. "Hours. And they'll have _killer_ headaches when they wake."

"Glad we don't have to stick around for that part…" Steve remarks.

Cell thirteen is just around the second corner. It's locked – of course – with a small keypad and panel next to it, which seems oddly out of place in the otherwise medieval-looking corridor.

"Ah joy, it's a bloodlock," Kevin says. "I should be able to get us through. They re-instated me on the system when… you know, yesterday morning."

"Oh please, I'm sure we don't need to resort to anything so Byzantine…" Steve interrupts. "Just stand aside and let me handle this…"

Kevin does lower his knife and move out of the way, though as Steve starts taking the panel apart, Kevin says, "Much as I appreciate the efforts, you shouldn't besmirch the good people of Byzantium. They were extremely advanced, especially when it comes to a number of _very_ complex little summoning rituals that–"

"…Kevin, we don't want to know," Cecil interrupts.

"Oh Cecil, I'm sure you do really…"

"Nope. Not even a little bit."

"…If you two could restrain your angry flirting until we're _not_ in mortal peril, I'd be _sincerely_ grateful," Steve cuts in. "Have you ever tried to bypass a bloodlock before? 'Cause I haven't, and I'd appreciate a little _quiet_."

"I've tried to bypass one before," Kevin answers, very calmly.

"…You have?" Cecil manages. "What happened?"

Kevin shrugs. "Landed myself a week's re-education." He can't quite suppress the little shudder at that, though, no matter how nonchalant he's trying to be, and Carlos opts not to question it because the chances are _high_ that he doesn't want to know.

They're spared from any further detail as Steve suddenly exclaims, "Aha! Told you! A god among men!"

There's a click, a red spark… and the door clunks open.

Kevin moves amazingly fast, pushing it back and hurrying into the cell beyond. The instant he does, a figure leaps up from where they've been sitting on the ground: a woman who looks a lot like a female version of Kevin, and nigh-on identical to Cecil's sister, Caitlin.

"Kirsten!" Kevin exclaims, and the relief in his voice nearly breaks Carlos on the spot.

"…Kevin?" Kirsten says, clearly stunned. "What the heck are you doing?"

"Rescuing you!" Kevin replies. "I… oh, come here…"

They launch into a hug, holding each other tightly, not letting go for a long moment. When finally they do, Kirsten keeps a firm hold of Kevin's shoulders. " _Gillian_ ," she says, urgently. "What happened to my daughter?"

"She's fine, I promise," Kevin tells her, quickly. "She was intercepted by a mutual friend before Strex could ever get hold of her. She's been safe this whole time."

"Oh, thank the Smiling God…" Kirsten says, collapsing into a second hug. "I was so scared that… that…"

"I know," Kevin replies, saving her from having to say it. "I know."

It's as they step apart again that Kirsten notices the rest of the group lurking in the doorway, and her eyes go wide. "Is that… Kevin, is that your _double?_ And… and _Carlos?_ I… I haven't heard from you since you went out to Night Vale, but the rumours said…"

Kevin grips her hands, looking quite genuinely guilty. "I'm sorry. I thought it would be safer for you if I didn't try to get in touch. I thought… Strex might leave you alone if they thought you wanted nothing to do with me…"

Kirsten looks like she's fighting the urge to hit him. "I'm your sister, you idiot! How could I want nothing to do with you? You're my _family_. You and Gillian are my _only_ family! And… OK, seriously, is it true about you and… you know, those two?"

"Yep," says Kevin, proudly. "I should introduce you. You already know Carlos, of course, and then this is Cecil."

They shake hands. Kirsten looks a little stunned.

"You think this is weird, wait 'til you meet his sister," Kevin remarks. "And then this is Steve, Cecil's brother-in-law, and Frederick, who is one of Carlos' scientists."

"…And they're here because..?"

Kevin shrugs. "We needed a computer-hacker and an expert in creative weaponry design."

"I… see," Kirsten manages. "Well. You certainly seem to have thought this through. I… ah, you know. Thanks. For doing this. It can't have been easy."

"Kind of fun, though," Kevin remarks.

"Kevin!" Cecil exclaims.

Kevin just gives him his very best innocent look.

"We need to get out of here," Carlos reminds them. "But… we don't want to abandon the other prisoners, so we're going to break them out too."

"Ambitious, aren't you?" Kirsten remarks, with a little grin. "I don't blame you, though. I wouldn't want to leave _anyone_ behind in this place. Not alive, at least…"

She shudders. Kevin puts a hand on her shoulder, and then pauses, clearly thinking. "We really do need some backup whilst we're doing this," he reasons. "Even if all those enforcers stay unconscious, there's every risk we may have tripped a silent alarm, and that more of them could be on the way."

"…What kind of backup?" Frederick asks.

This is because he doesn't know Kevin well enough to recognise the look in the man's eyes. But Cecil and Carlos both do.

"Oh no," Cecil says. "No. No, no, no. Not now."

"Oh, Cecil, you really do need to lighten up," Kevin replies.

"Can we have a translation for those of us who don't speak maniac?" Steve interrupts.

Cecil glowers at him. "Kevin is implying that now would be a good time to summon that demon of his."

"Oh, good point!" Kirsten agrees. "I haven't seen Azzie in _months_. How's he doing?"

"Oh, just great," Kevin tells her. "I set up a private soul-bind with him before I betrayed Strex, so they couldn't turn him on me. Worked wonders!"

"I really don't think it would be a good idea…" Cecil starts out, but it's too late. Kevin has stepped back with Kirsten, close to the door, leaving the centre of the cell clear. He takes a deep breath and holds up his hands, and at once there's a sound like a drum being struck in the recesses of Hell.

This is a bad idea, Carlos reminds himself. A very bad idea. It is _not_ incredibly hot.

Seriously.

A circle containing a flaming pentagram blazes into life on the floor, with ancient and indecipherable symbols between its five points. The air goes warm, and electric, and all the while Kevin is chanting away in that wonderfully arcane language he uses for this. He claims it's Linear-B, which Carlos has always just had to accept at face-value because all _he_ speaks is English and Spanish. Anything beyond that is simply _not_ his speciality.

Though that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy listening to it.

By now, Kevin's palms are glowing, the summoning circle is blindingly bright, and the chant itself is bordering on ecstatic. Kevin shouts out the last three words, there's a blazing flash of light, and the eight-foot tall, bat-winged creature he so lovingly refers to as 'Azzie' appears in the centre of the circle.

The flames die down, without leaving a mark, and Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty folds his arms, staring at Kevin. "Oh," he rumbles. "It's _you_. I should have known. No one else is pretentious enough to summon me in Linear-B."

"There is just no pleasing you some days!" Kevin exclaims, folding his arms too.

"Nope," says Azatothoth, in what Carlos suspects is supposed to be a bright tone. "Now, Kevin, what do you want? I'm guessing by the décor of the place and by the crowd staring over at me that this isn't a social call?"

"Long story short, we broke into a Strexcorp prison facility to rescue Kirsten," Kevin replies. "You remember Kirsten, my sister?"

"Of course," Azatothoth answers. He gives a sweeping bow and an alarmingly toothy grin. "Always a pleasure. You know I'm taking on new clients at present? Happy to discuss potential soul-binds, if you're interested. I'd be just _delighted_ to have you on my books."

"Azzie, stop hitting on my sister," Kevin says, flatly.

"Hey, he's a darn sight better than my last boyfriend…" Kirsten points out.

It's hard to know what to say to this.

" _Well_ ," Kevin cuts in, evidently trying to keep the conversation on safer lines, "we should get moving. We have fourteen other people to break out. Azzie… if you could just watch our backs? Hopefully all the enforcers will stay unconscious – long story – but if anyone turns up and tries anything… feel free to _dissuade_ them however you wish."

"You're _much_ more fun when you're like this," Azatothoth remarks, approvingly.

"I'm always like this!" Kevin insists.

"Uh, no, a lot of the time you're not," Azatothoth says. "You use half your summonings just because you want to talk to me, or to use me to smuggle bags of _flour_ into Night Vale."

"Oh, so _that's_ how you're doing it!" Cecil exclaims. "I was convinced you must be paying off one of the helicopter pilots!"

"Please," Kevin replies, with a proud little smile, "that's _so_ old-school."

"Much as all of this is _very_ entertaining, we _are_ still deep inside a Strexcorp prison facility and thereby in _unimaginable_ danger," Steve cuts in. "So possibly we should all _focus_ and save the character-building conversations for another time!"

It's hard to argue with logic like this, though Cecil still tries. Nevertheless, they take the hint, and begin working their way through the cells, getting them open and freeing the people inside. It's rather quicker once Steve has shown the rest of them how to do it, and soon they're doing several at once, whilst Azatothoth lurks close by, swinging his sword at any shadows that move too fast.

The people in the cells are varying degrees of stunned when they realise what's going on. Most of them recognise Kevin, but a fair few know who Cecil and Carlos are too – and not just because of their association with Kevin. Once they've freed everyone, they gather them all together and start heading towards the exit, with Azatothoth now leading the way.

No one bats an eyelid at the entrance room full of bodies. It pretty much comes as standard if you're from Desert Bluffs.

They step outside into the dark of night, hurrying across the small compound to get the main gate open, and Carlos finds himself finally daring to think that they might actually be pulling this off.

It's important never to think things like this. The universe listens. And the universe has a very warped sense of humour.

Beyond the gate, between them and the far ridge… is a whole line of enforcers, some holding flaming torches – seriously, _do_ they just do that for effect? – and all armed. Everyone freezes, and – before Kevin can tell Azatothoth to go wild – the lead enforcer holds up a hand.

"Well, well, well," she says. "Now isn't this something? A jailbreak at one of our most _important_ facilities, and perpetrated by such _celebrities_ no less. But it was only a matter of time, of course. We knew you'd never be able to resist trying something like this. Not with one so _lovely_ at stake…"

"OK, seriously, people need to stop hitting on my sister!" Kevin exclaims.

"Now you know how _I_ feel all the time…" Carlos murmurs, mostly through hysteria.

"Much as all this is _very_ entertaining," the enforcer cuts back in, "I'm afraid this is the end of the line for the whole lot of you… including all these poor fools who are going to _wish_ they'd stayed in their cells. Well. All of you except Kevin, of course. Strexcorp isn't quite done with _you_ yet…"

"Uh, you do see my demon, yes?" Kevin asks, glaring. "Guy over there? Eight feet tall? Very large sword? You can _try_ to kill us, but you won't get very far."

"Please," says the enforcer, coldly, "that's only Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty. You really think I'm worried by a minor adjunct from the _Fourth_ Infernal Plane?"

"OK, seriously, what _is_ it with you people and all the planism?!" Azatothoth exclaims. "The Fourth Infernal Plane is _drenched_ in blood! You should be able to _relate_ to that!"

"Well, I like to set my sights a little _higher_ ," the woman replies, coolly.

This, it seems, is _also_ tempting fate, because at this point a swarm of hooded figures erupt into view on the ridge behind the enforcers, taking everyone by surprise. There appears to be a nigh-on cosmic game of one-upsmanship in progress here, and Carlos worries how far it will escalate.

" _No one move_ ," says the leader of the hooded figures, and it's clear from their voice that the person under that cloak is Naomi. Apparently the whole 'not being involved' thing was not entirely true.

Now they just have to hope none of the enforcers realises it's her. Or, at least, survives to tell of it…

…OK, not a good thought.

The lead enforcer turns to stare up at the hooded figures, gesturing at them with her knife. "Back off," she hisses. "This is official Strexcorp business."

"Not for very much longer," Naomi declares. She holds out her hands, and her line of allies all do the same, and whatever's coming next… can't be good. "Now. You have five seconds to stand down and drop your weapons… or death will be the _least_ of your problems."

"You don't scare me," the enforcer replies.

"Really?" Naomi says, in a cool and level voice that makes Carlos suddenly _very_ aware of who the woman's father was. "Then you're even more of an idiot than I first thought."

"Now you just come down here and say that to my face..!" the enforcer starts out, and she tries to make a move towards the ridge. But she can't. None of the enforcers can. The group standing in the gateway are just fine, but all of the enforcers are frozen in place.

"…Oh no," the enforcer says, with just a hint of worry in her tone now. "No. Don't you dare..!"

"You brought this on yourselves," Naomi declares… and, at once, she and her line of hooded associates begin to chant in unison, their arms still held out. The air goes electric, and _cold_ , and green light starts to spill down towards them.

Cecil already has his arms wrapped around Carlos, though a second later Kevin does the same, right before he yells, " _Azzie!_ Cover us! _Quick!_ "

He clearly knows what's going on, and from the tremor in his voice, he's genuinely scared by it. Perhaps Azatothoth understands too, because he doesn't argue, or hesitate; immediately moving over to them. Kirsten, Steve and Frederick have stepped in close too, taking the hint, and all at once Azatothoth pushes the six of them down, curling into a crouch with his vast wings spread over the top of them, covering them from… whatever is going on.

Carlos can't see, now, half-crouched on the ground with Cecil and Kevin both holding onto him. He can make out a few flashes of green light, but that's all. He can, however, hear, and what he can hear…

Well. There are moments in our lives we never want to re-live. Moments in our lives we wouldn't wish on our worst enemies. And then, very occasionally, there are moments that make these other moments seem like a picnic on a summer afternoon.

This is one such moment. The chanting – in another language Carlos can't identify – is ringing out across the dark desert, accompanied by other sounds that defy description; sounds that, whatever they are, can't be caused by anything from this plane of existence. They certainly aren't caused by anything remotely _human_.

There's a lot of movement, and screaming, and what sounds a great deal like _tendrils_ whipping through the air. It's hard to know how long it carries on for, partly due to the non-existence of time and partly because Carlos' mind goes into lockdown.

Don't think. Don't think. Seriously, don't think.

And then, mercifully, everything falls silent. There's one last burst of light, and then… nothing.

Nothing.

It's another moment before Azatothoth moves and allows them to stand up, and it's perhaps testament to what's happened that he doesn't say a word. They slowly rise to their feet; Carlos being immensely glad that neither Cecil nor Kevin lets go of him, because he's confident he'd fall over again if they didn't.

The sight before them is… not easy to process. Not easy at all. Every one of the enforcers is dead, and very few have the same number of limbs they did moments ago – though in some cases, that number has _increased_ rather than decreased. And there is a _lot_ of blood.

The other fourteen prisoners emerge from where they've been taking cover behind the outer fence of the facility. They look more than a little shell-shocked too, though perhaps not as much as they should. After all… this kind of thing is rather more normal if you're from Desert Bluffs.

This being said… even Kevin seems somewhat pale, and he turns to Azatothoth as the group extricates itself, giving the demon a careful pat on the shoulder. "Thanks for that," he says, and it's clear he really means it.

For once, Azatothoth holds off on the snark. "Don't mention it."

"…This was _not_ part of the plan!" Carlos finally exclaims, a good octave higher than usual.

"You'd rather we let them kill you?" says the hooded figure that is Naomi, descending from the ridge with a second figure at her side. She drops her hood as she gets close, and her companion does the same, revealing – unsurprisingly – Darla, looking positively euphoric.

"Well, no, of course not, but… but… what did you _do?_ " Carlos manages.

Naomi grins. "We summoned H'ygragagogoth. I hope you're impressed."

" _Impressed?!_ " Kevin exclaims. "Naomi, you _know_ what happens if you invoke H'ygragagogoth when it isn't one of his ritual days!"

"Yep," Naomi replies, coolly, gesturing to the scene of devastation all around them. " _That_."

"…Can we _please_ go five minutes without ending up covered in blood?!" Cecil now exclaims, having apparently been speechless from shock until now. "How do you people _live_ like this?!"

Darla shrugs. "You get used to it."

" _You are all **insane**!_ " Steve finally manages, hyperventilating more than a little.

For once, Cecil looks like he agrees.

"Oh, we're not insane," Naomi insists, far too calmly. "We should, however, get out of here before the place is swarming with helicopters. I don't think my chakras could take it if I had to invoke H'ygragagogoth twice in the same night."

And no one is going to argue with this.

***

They disperse. The fourteen rescuees are sent off in small groups with Naomi's various hooded allies. If nothing else, all of them will have to stay safely in hiding until this is over, although Carlos suspects their involvement in it isn't done yet.

Azatothoth disappears once it's clear he won't be needed anymore tonight, giving Kirsten a wink that gets him quite a look from Kevin.

And finally, they're free to make their way back to Naomi's place. The plan has – technically – been a total success. Kirsten has been rescued and all of them escaped with their lives, but the air is very subdued as they travel.

Carlos sits in the rear of the van, curled up in Cecil's arms. The contact helps. It helps a lot.

He's got to figure out a way to end this, and soon, because he doesn't know how much more of it he can take.

And in the back of his mind… the song is getting louder.


	8. The Sinner In Me

_If I could just hide_  
_The sinner inside_  
_And keep him denied_  
_How sweet life would be_  
_If I could be free_  
_From the sinner in me_

~ Depeche Mode: _'The Sinner In Me'_

***

It's been a night for reunions.

The moment they get in through the door, Gillian comes racing towards them. " _Mom!_ " she exclaims, barrelling into her mother's arms and holding on tight.

They hug for a long time. A _long_ time. In a weird way, it somehow makes all of this worthwhile, even if Carlos doesn't know how he's going to get over the shellshock.

"Oh, my girl," Kirsten exclaims, when they finally break apart. "I'm so glad you're OK. I hope you've been behaving yourself."

"Of _course_ I have," Gillian insists, looking like she'd be more sullen and teenagerly were she not currently overcome with relief. "Darla's been teaching me bone telepathy!"

"Really?" Kirsten says. "Wow, that's pretty advanced for someone your age." She grins over at Darla. "Right now, however… I think it might be past your bedtime."

" _Mom_ ," Gillian whines, although there's still very little actual annoyance in it.

"I think it's past _all_ our bedtimes," Kevin chips in.

He does have a point. They're all tired, and re-convening in the morning sounds like an excellent idea right now. Though he does give Kirsten a _very_ tight hug before they head off.

They got her out. That has to count for something.

It has to count for a lot.

***

Things take an unpredicted turn when the three of them make it back to their room.

The moment they're alone, Cecil grabs hold of Kevin, pushes him roughly into the nearest wall, and starts kissing him so hard that Kevin actually squeaks in surprise.

Carlos stares. It's a _very_ welcome distraction, albeit an _extremely_ unexpected one.

Cecil's hands are everywhere, dragging over Kevin's sides, slipping under his shirt, stroking over his skin. He presses them in together, drawing the kiss out until he's left with no choice but to break it, breathless and gasping.

Carlos is still staring. And, now he can, Kevin also stares more than a little. His eyes seem to have gone even darker, and there's rather a liberal dose of hunger in his expression.

"Cecil, what's gotten into you?" he manages, sounding like he approves wholeheartedly.

"We just survived… I don't even know _what_ that was, but… but we survived it. And that's kind of _amazing_ …"

Cecil reaches over, grabs Carlos, and pulls him in too, kissing him hard, and _wow_ , that feels so good. Carlos is a little dizzy when the kiss breaks, but that doesn't stop him enjoying the view as Cecil presses in to kiss Kevin again. And then… Cecil wraps them both in close, holding on tight, and they all sort of collapse into a very firm hug, no one wanting – or daring – to let go.

" _Let's not do that again,_ " Cecil whispers. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to either of you."

"We're safe," Kevin reassures him. "We're safe. It's OK. I won't _let_ anything happen to either of you. And you _know_ what I'll do if anyone _tries_ anything."

The way his voice darkens at that is _delightfully_ scary. Perhaps even more so, however, is the way Cecil immediately kisses him again, as hard as he can without letting go of either of them.

"And that's another thing," Cecil adds. "If you could be _less_ hot when you're going all maniac on people, I'd be very grateful. It's _distracting_ and _bad_ and _wrong_."

He's not fooling anyone though. It is at least a relief to Carlos to hear he's not the only one having _those_ thoughts.

"You know what we should do now?" Kevin asks.

"What?" Carlos replies, even though he knows full-well this is a leading answer in response to a leading question. And also another leading question in its own right.

The smile is evident in Kevin's voice even though Carlos can't quite see his face. "Fall into bed and do wicked things to each other."

"You are _not_ allowed in bed whilst you're still covered in blood," Cecil answers, firmly.

"…Fall into the shower and do wicked things to each other?" Kevin suggests.

This, it turns out, is an excellent plan.

***

It's early the next morning.

Kevin has gone off to talk to his sister, leaving Carlos and Cecil in their room. As soon as they're alone, Carlos crawls into Cecil's arms and curls up tight. The contact is always lovely, but right now he needs it more than ever.

For some time, they don't talk. They just stay close, and it would be a very comfortable silence if Carlos' mind wasn't racing so much.

And now he's trying to work out what to say. It's unusual for Cecil to be so quiet for so long – the man does love to talk – which means Carlos starts to worry that he's missing something. It could just be the lingering effects of what happened last night. That would make sense. It would make a lot of sense.

And it would be preferable to what Cecil does say when he – finally – breaks the silence.

"…Carlos, I… you know that song you and Kevin can hear? The… the song underneath the hum?"

"Yes," Carlos replies, carefully.

"Does it… does it sort of sound like a distant choir?"

Carlos shuts his eyes for a long moment as the dread rushes through him. "…Yes," he says again, voice hollow.

"I… I see. Because… I think I can hear it."

Carlos pushes up enough to look Cecil in the eyes. "How long?" he asks, very softly.

"Since last night. But I wasn't sure until I woke up this morning. It's distant, but… it isn't humming anymore. It's definitely a song."

"Don't listen to it," Carlos urges. "And… and if you do… try to hear it the way it _really_ is. If nothing else, that will put you off trying to listen for _hours_."

"The way it _really_ is?" Cecil repeats. "How do I..?"

Right now, Cecil is sitting upright in bed, resting on the headboard with Carlos in his arms. But at that, Carlos clambers up, straddling the other man so they're face to face. "Don't hear it the way it wants you to," he says. "It's… like the old oak doors. Listen to it out of the corner of your mind and you'll catch it the way it really is…"

Cecil nods, closing his eyes for a moment… and then jumps all of a sudden, eyes open to stare at Carlos in horror. "I… you mean that… that broken _roaring?_ "

Carlos nods too, feeling guilty for having even pointed it out to him, despite how vital it is for him to know. "Yes. You… you heard it?"

"I heard it. It… Carlos, it sounds like _Hell_."

"I know. I'm sorry. But you… if you can hear the song, you need to know. If you feel it getting too deep into your head, you have to concentrate and… and listen to it that way. Otherwise… it starts to sound _good_."

He's been trying not to engage with this since he got here, and doubly-so since whatever it was Kevin did to him that first morning, but the truth of the matter is… Carlos knows the song is having an effect on him. He knows it's in his head, all the time, and it's doing things to his mind that he can't detect at first.

"…Good?" Cecil repeats, his voice shaking a little. "Good… how?"

Carlos is not sure how much he should admit. But… but it's _Cecil_. _His_ Cecil. _Their_ Cecil. And that means Carlos should be able to tell him everything.

Besides. He's been down the line of keeping things from the man before. And he doesn't want to do that ever again.

"Well, I… you know last night, when Kevin had to kill those four enforcers, and he had that _look_ in his eyes, and… and he wanted to just do the same to everyone else we met?"

Cecil nods very carefully. "Yes. I remember."

"And you talked him down? Well… I almost wanted you not to. I almost wanted to let him. And Cecil… I didn't just want to let him. I wanted to _watch_."

"But… but you didn't even watch the ones he _did_ kill…" Cecil reasons, almost desperately.

"Of course not," Carlos replies. "It was one of my boyfriends _killing_ people. And… and if I _had_ started to watch… Cecil, I don't know if I would have been able to look away. This place… this place is in my head. It's _deep_ in my head and it's doing things to me. And you… I'm so sorry you can hear it too. So sorry. I wouldn't wish this on _anyone_."

"Carlos… this isn't your fault," Cecil insists, cupping his face in both hands. "We both came here of our own free will, and I'm confident that neither of us would take it back if we could. Right?"

"Right." This much is true. The only thing worse than being here would be leaving Kevin to face it alone.

"So don't you for one second think that I blame you. Or Kevin. But having seen what this place really is… I know now why we _have_ to help. I know now why we can't just take Kirsten and Gillian and get out of here. Desert Bluffs… is full of victims. Who knows how many of them would be good people were it not for that _thing_ in the centre of town? We have to help them."

"I know," Carlos agrees, very softly. "I know. I don't doubt your intentions, or mine even. I just… I'm scared I'm going to slip under again. Scared… scared that _Kevin_ will slip under again. I don't want to put you through that twice."

Cecil pulls him in, kissing him gently. "If it happens… I'll deal with it. I'm ready this time, and we're in a much safer place. If it happens, I'll pull you both back. And you… you lived here for _months_ , right? I know the town must have affected you, but you never…"

"…went native? Not to the extent everyone else round here does. I figure it's because I wasn't born in Desert Bluffs. But I can tell you that, whatever the Bloodstone does… it's stronger now. It is _much_ stronger. And I don't know if I can resist it indefinitely. If you can already hear the song… we probably don't have much time."

This really isn't a good thought. Carlos curls in close again, and Cecil holds him tight.

"We'll get through it," Cecil says, after a moment, in that soft, sure voice that Carlos loves most of all. "I know it won't be easy, but… I know we can do this. We got Strex out of Night Vale starting from nothing but a collection of people hiding at my sister's house. And, you know, the crazily well-prepared youth militia. But the point is the same: we did that. And we can do this."

Carlos wants to take confidence in these words, and in a way he does because Cecil inspires it in him. But at the same time… what they're facing isn't going to be easy.

The other man is right, though: it's much better to face it together than alone.

***

Breakfast, later that morning, is quite an affair. For one thing, there's nine of them – Carlos, Cecil, Kevin, Kirsten, Gillian, Steve, Frederick, Naomi and Darla – and that makes things a little convoluted.

Helpfully, Naomi has a tendency to run breakfasts like she's running a board meeting, albeit a board meeting that involves a lot of toast.

"I do have an important development to report," she says, after they're done going over what happened the previous night, in more detail than Carlos enjoys. "It's something I didn't know about until I saw the group you rescued, but one of the other fourteen was a woman named Jessica Paulson."

"…Paulson?" Cecil repeats. "You mean like _James_ Paulson?"

"The farmer, you know?" Kevin adds, unnecessarily.

"The very same," Naomi answers. "James Paulson, Desert Bluffs' leading farmer and known double of your own John Peters…"

"…You know, the farmer?" Steve interrupts, with a positively _evil_ little grin.

"…Yes," Naomi goes on, unfazed. "Him. James has been a staunch supporter of Strexcorp for years. He's the one who developed those _delightful_ oranges for us…"

"…Uh, Nay?" Darla interrupts.

"Hm?"

"The oranges were evil, remember?"

"…Yes. Sorry. Force of habit."

"He tried to kill me once," Cecil says. "When he was over in Night Vale, pretending to be John. He tried to kill me with an orange. Well. Not _kill_ me, but trans-dimensionally teleport me to… to wherever they took people. The only one we've gotten back was Maureen, and she spent months stuck in that _other_ desert…"

"Good thing you managed to stop him, really," Carlos adds. "I know Maureen eventually got back OK, but… seriously, I wouldn't like to be trapped over there."

"Tell me about it," Cecil agrees. "And not only did James try to trans-dimensionally teleport me, he turned up again later outside the house that doesn't exist, and attacked us."

"I'm sensing some _bad blood_ between you," Naomi says. "Which is understandable. But things have changed. As I say, one of the people you rescued last night was Jessica Paulson, James' wife."

"So… James is a staunch supporter of Strex but Jessica landed herself in _that_ place?" Carlos says.

Naomi nods. "Yep. Turns out Jess wasn't so happy with what her husband's been doing. But, get this, after she vanished about two weeks ago… he changed his tune. I only just heard, but apparently it tipped him right over the edge. Several Strex higher-ups received oranges in the mail, and James hasn't been seen since."

"So where is he?" Kevin asks.

"I'm right here," comes a voice from the doorway.

They all turn – several in obvious shock, Carlos included – to see the man now standing staring at them: a man in eye-watering plaid and wearing a large straw hat. He walks over, looking around at their surprised expressions, and folds his arms.

"OK, so don't overreact," James Paulson insists. "'Specially you, Cecil. I don't want to get hit in the head again."

"Then don't give me a reason," Cecil replies, a little tersely.

"Look, I know I may not be your favourite person in the world, but I'm here to help," James says. "You got my Jess out of that awful place. I owe you, big time."

"James called me in the middle of the night," Naomi explains. "He said Jess was free – and in hiding – and that she'd said I was involved in the jailbreak. He said… actually, I'll let him tell you."

"I said: I've had enough," James goes on. "I've been loyal to Strex for years. Done everything for 'em. Everything they asked, and a lot more besides. But they didn't even give me the courtesy of a heads-up when Jess started acting against them. I could've talked her down. Could've stopped all this. But no. Turns out that developing the world's first trans-dimensional oranges ain't worth squat to Strexcorp. So. To Hell with 'em. If you crazy lot are forming some kind of revolutionary band, I'm in."

"And you expect us to just… _trust_ you?" Cecil asks, sounding suspicious.

"Oh, I know you won't like it," James accepts. "To be honest, I'd say you were dumb if you did. But you need all the help you can get. And let me remind you… they locked up my _wife_. They locked up my wife in that _place_. And if you think I could forgive 'em for that… you weren't paying attention when you were there."

This is greeted by a rather awkward silence.

"…All right," Cecil says, finally. "I can understand that. If it was someone I love…" His eyes flick first to Carlos, then to Kevin, and there's a haunted look in his expression. "…Yes. Yes. I wouldn't forgive it either. And… we do sort of need you. Specifically you."

"So I gather," James replies, with a nod.

"Pull up a chair," Naomi tells him. "We still have plenty of toast."

And they explain things to him: in particular, their theory about the prophecies, and the plan to gather together the doubles of the four who saved Night Vale. Well. Three of the doubles and Steve, of course. No one is quite sure why Steve doesn't have a double, but he gets suspicious looks from Cecil every time the matter comes up.

"So… you want to rally as many people here as possible and launch an uprising against Strex?" James says, finally.

"Yes," Kevin tells him. "We might even be able to get more people to come over from Night Vale, too. To help."

"I've been thinking the same," Cecil agrees. "But we can't risk bringing them here – or even tipping our hand to the people of Desert Bluffs – until we've taken care of… of that _thing_."

His voice is shaking a little, and Carlos knows the other man is still somewhat rattled by the fact that he can already hear the song behind the constant hum.

"We need to destroy the Bloodstone," Carlos says, flatly. "I realise this is probably akin to us saying we want to kill a god, but… we do. We don't stand a chance whilst that thing is keeping most of the populace enthralled. Once we get rid of it… the way will be clear for a full-scale revolution. But right now… destroying it is our only hope. That's why I got Frederick to come over here. He's an expert on mystical rocks and between us… I'm hopeful we can work out a solution."

"If anyone can, we can," Frederick says. "I am going to need to see the thing, though. Take some readings. Do some tests. Standard science-y stuff."

"I can arrange it," Naomi replies, carefully. "As I mentioned before… we would need to go at night, to reduce the risk of us being spotted. And we would need to be _careful_. Under no circumstances can anyone go too close to it, and _woe betide you_ if you touch the thing. We can't risk staying long, either. Not only might someone notice, but just being close to the Bloodstone for any length of time is _dangerous_."

"I'm sitting this one out," Steve insists. "Great big mind-controlling rock? No thanks. I'll stay back and see what useful intel I can gather online."

"Can I help?" Gillian asks. "I'm pretty good at that stuff. And it's not like they'll let _me_ go to the Bloodstone now, is it?"

"Absolutely you are not going," Kirsten says at once. "And neither am I."

"See?" Gillian goes on. "So. Can I help with the hacking?"

Steve gives her a suspicious look. "You know about computer hacking?"

"Sure I do!" Gillian replies.

"…So long as you promise not to try any of that bone telepathy stuff, then OK," Steve agrees.

"Oh, I can't do bone telepathy on _living_ subjects yet."

Sometimes it is vital not to ask.

"So… who is going on this trip?" Naomi asks. "Other than Frederick, of course."

"…I'd better," Carlos replies, even though the thought makes him feel cold as ice.

"Which means I am," Cecil adds, immediately.

"And me," Kevin says.

"Are you… sure that's wise?" Naomi asks him, carefully. "After what happened…"

"…I know what happened," Kevin replies, softly. "But they made me touch it. So long as no one does that, I'll be fine. Besides… I am not letting the men I love go near that thing without backup."

And there's no arguing with this.

"There's… something else I should mention," Cecil says. "That song the Bloodstone emits? The one most of you can hear? I can hear it too, now."

"What?" Kevin exclaims, staring over at him in sudden horror. "Already?!"

Cecil nods. "I'm afraid so. It's distant, but… it's there. Carlos told me how to tune into what it really sounds like, so… I can do that if it gets too strong."

"…This means we're next, doesn't it?" Steve asks, and for once there's no snark in his voice. "Frederick and I. We're next."

"Yes," Kevin answers. "If it's happening so fast… you'll probably be able to hear it by tomorrow morning. We can tell you how to deal with it, once it's there. But we are going to need to move quickly. If we don't take this thing out… we're all in trouble."

And Carlos knows this is an understatement, in more ways than one. If the song is getting into _their_ heads so rapidly… what is it doing to Kevin?

***

Those of them going on the night's alarming field trip spend the day in preparation. Carlos and Frederick need to do several tests on the Bloodstone, and they need to do them as rapidly as possible, so they spend their time getting everything together and whittled down to the essentials, to ensure they can work quickly when they arrive.

Cecil and Kevin disappear off for a while. They don't say what they've been doing; only that it will help in the long run. And Kevin spends a fair amount of time during the afternoon with his sister because, despite putting on a brave face whenever her daughter is around, it's clear that Kirsten is still recovering from her time in Strex's custody.

Carlos doesn't ask exactly what happened during those few days, though he's confident that Kevin knows, and that it isn't good.

Evening rolls around. The sun sets, and before long the eerie silence of night has fallen on Desert Bluffs.

"It's time," Naomi announces.

So off they go: Cecil, Carlos, Kevin and Frederick, along with Naomi. The latter drives, with the rest of them lurking once more in the back of the van, out of sight.

They're quiet as they travel. Frederick is calmly engrossed in something he's reading on his phone, and the other three of them… well. It's hard to work out what to say. Carlos can't speak for Cecil or Kevin, but he himself is flatly terrified. There are too many variables; too many things that might go wrong when they get to their destination. Too many points on a mental graph that already looks like it's planning to eat someone.

The song is getting louder. It's impossible to miss, as is the alarm in Cecil's eyes as he tries to concentrate on blocking it out. But the closer they get… the harder it becomes.

Eventually, the van comes to a halt as Naomi parks on the roadside. "This is it," she says, looking over at them. "There's no one else around, so you can get out. But take it _slow_. And, for the love of Ozhen'ipleth, keep an eye on Kevin."

It's a testament to how worried they all are that even Kevin doesn't argue.

The four of them step out of the back of the van. Beyond… is a wide-open square, with a different statue at each corner depicting a civic hero of some variety. Naturally (except, not naturally at all) everything is drenched in blood… and there seems to be a great deal of it here. And in the centre of the square, sticking out of the ground… is the Bloodstone.

It's huge – at least the size of the van they've arrived in – and jagged; glowing with a deep, ominous red light. It does indeed look more like a crystal: like someone took a quartz or an amethyst spike and coloured it the most terrifying hue imaginable. And the song? The second Carlos sets eyes on the Bloodstone, the song in his head dials up to eleven. For a moment, all he can do is clutch at his temples, trying to concentrate on pushing the sound back down.

But it is a _lot_ harder than usual.

" _Whoa_ ," Frederick breathes. "That's… _cool_."

"Frederick!" Carlos exclaims, aware he still sounds more than a little pained.

"Oh, come on, give a mystical-rock-expert a break. This is, like, _the_ best one I've ever seen."

"Can't you _hear_ it?" Cecil asks, looking somewhat pained too.

"Sure I can," Frederick answers. "I mean, it's still just a hum, but right now it sounds like there's a pneumatic drill inside my head. _Seriously_ unpleasant. And _cool_."

"There is something very wrong with you," Carlos mutters.

"Ah, normalcy is boring," Frederick replies, idly. "Come along, Mr Team Leader. Science time!"

They can't risk getting too close to the thing – which is a mercy, because every step towards it seems to make the effects worse – so they set up close to one of the four statues, preparing the equipment they've brought and starting to take the readings they need.

And Carlos tries to concentrate on it. He tries very hard. The trouble is… every few seconds he's flicking his eyes over to Kevin, watching him. _Worrying_.

Kevin himself stands a little way off, with Cecil at his side.

"You can… hear it, right?" Kevin asks, finally.

"Yeah," Cecil answers. "I can hear it."

"What does it sound like to you?"

"Like there's an entire opera in the back of my head."

"And…" Kevin's voice wavers a little. "…What does it _feel_ like?"

There's a pause before Cecil answers, and the catch in his voice is very telling. "It feels… like the worst moments of my life. Like… like the day I thought Carlos had been killed by the citizens of the miniature city underneath Lane Five of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. Or… or when you were stabbed during the Battle of Night Vale, and I thought… I thought I might never get the chance to…"

He trails off and Kevin grips his hand. "You're lucky, you know," he whispers.

Cecil looks sideways at him. " _Lucky?_ "

"Yes. The fact that… that those thoughts are in your head is because you're fighting it. The Bloodstone makes you think those things in order to get you to stop, because they're _awful_ , and don't you _want_ them to stop? And when you _do_ stop fighting… those thoughts will turn into something that feels much better. Hope. Warmth. Productivity. It's so lovely. And… it's also how it takes hold of you… It doesn't want you to fight. It wants you to give in and be _happy_. And it will feel _so_ good when you do…"

Kevin's voice is going distant. Cecil turns to look at him, though he's obviously having to resist the urge to keep staring at the Bloodstone. "What does it feel like to you?" Cecil asks, sounding hesitant to voice the question, as if he already knows he won't enjoy the answer.

He's right. "It feels like home," Kevin whispers. "Like success and value and community spirit. Like _forgiveness_. I… I want to feel like that again. I want that certainty, that _surety_. I… I should get closer to it…"

Kevin lets go of Cecil and starts to pace slowly forwards. He only manages a few steps though before Cecil is in front of him, hand on his chest, holding him back. " _No_ ," Cecil says. "No. Don't you dare. That thing is _evil_. That thing is evil and the only reason we let you near it is to help protect Carlos and Frederick whilst they do science. Otherwise I would have _insisted_ you stay back at the house."

"But… don't you feel _better_ when you look at it?" Kevin says, still staring over Cecil's shoulder at the Bloodstone… and is it Carlos' imagination, or is the thing glowing brighter?

"We need to work faster," Carlos whispers to Frederick.

"I'm going as quick as I can," Frederick replies.

" _No_ ," Cecil is now saying to Kevin. "No, I don't feel better, Kevin, and neither do you. Stop staring at it and look at me."

"…No…" Kevin breathes. "No, I… I'm fine, Cecil, really, I am, I just…"

"You are not fine!" Cecil exclaims. "That thing is in your head!"

"No, no, it's OK, honest… oh, by the Smiling God, I…"

"You see?!" Cecil interrupts. "You _never_ swear by the Smiling God. Even when you worked for Strex, you _always_ swore by that insane demon of yours."

"Oh, Cecil, Cecil, that's just a… what'sitsname… _character trait_ ," Kevin insists. He sounds practically drunk now… well, no. Not drunk. _High_. "You know, like how Carlos always swears by Einstein or how you… actually, you swear by several things, you must be more indecisive. Or hedging your bets, at least."

"Kevin," Cecil says, in his firmest voice. "You never swear by the Smiling God because you _know_ how evil it is. And if you do it again, so help me, you are going back in the van."

"Oooh, tough talk," Kevin replies. "You really think you can overpower _me?_ " His expression breaks into a familiar, terrifying grin. "Then, _by the Smiling God_ , I'd like to see you try."

It's hard to know which part of this is the most provocative, but the overall effect is startling. Cecil stares at Kevin for a few seconds, and then promptly launches at him, trying to drag him back from the square. Kevin, naturally, resists, and for a second they're caught in perfect equilibrium, neither one able to move the other.

Then they go sideways. This is probably Kevin's doing, but – again – it isn't easy to tell. Both men hit the blood-strewn ground with some force and roll a couple of times before Kevin (unsurprisingly) tries to go for his knife. Panic flares in Carlos' heart, and he acts without stopping to think: racing over to his two boyfriends, grabbing hold of Kevin's arm just as he manages to draw that silver blade, and yanking him back as hard as he can.

This is ridiculous. No wonder the people in this town all end up so compliant if the alternative is having physical fights with each other every five minutes. Heck, maybe compliance would be…

…no. No. They can't give in.

"Will you stop?!" Carlos exclaims, somehow finding the strength to fling Kevin off Cecil. He achieves his primary goal – that of breaking them apart before someone ends up getting stabbed – but unfortunately now he's caught Kevin's attention. And that's dangerous enough when the man _isn't_ falling back under the influence of the giant cursed rock at the centre of his hometown.

And right now he really is. Kevin is up on his feet in seconds, with a quick half-roll that leaves him covered in even more blood. He rises, knife held out to the side, dark eyes suddenly full of danger.

"Oh, Carlos, Carlos," Kevin says, clapping his free hand to his chest. "You're _learning_. But not quick enough…"

Carlos recognises this fact now. He recognises it just as Kevin leaps at him, and this time it's Carlos who gets bowled to the blood-streaked ground, hitting it rather harder than he's prepared for, and finding himself momentarily stunned by the impact. It's certainly long enough for Kevin to get on top of him, and… OK, this would be _really_ nice were they not doing it in public, on a blood-soaked plaza, under the influence of a giant evil crystal.

The trouble is, they are.

"Cecil!" Carlos shouts, somewhat desperately, as Kevin presses the blade to his throat. He stops resisting, hoping that Kevin will take it as an acceptable surrender and not immediately knife him to death because…

…OK, bad thoughts. Bad thoughts.

"Don't you dare!" Cecil exclaims, leaping on Kevin and rolling him off Carlos, and then trying very hard to get the knife out of his hand before…

…Oh dear. As Carlos drags himself upright, he realises that Kevin now has Cecil pinned down instead, blade to his throat.

"Oooh, I haven't tried it on _you_ yet," Kevin declares. "I really should. Do you think you'll be a screamer? Carlos is more into pleading than screaming, but I rather think you might–"

He's interrupted all at once as a second knife is pressed over his neck from behind. "I think that's quite enough about your impressively-warped lovelife," Naomi says, in a level, deadly tone. "Now… drop the weapon, Kevin, before I have to kick your ass in front of people."

For a moment, Kevin doesn't move, and then he relents, tossing the knife to the side and sitting back. Carlos scrambles to pick the blade up in the hopes this will reduce the risk of Kevin getting hold of it again, although there's also an argument for saying that this just makes Carlos more of a target.

Well. Better him than Cecil.

Naomi drags Kevin to his feet, which means Cecil can finally clamber up too, backing off and staying close to Carlos.

"Oh, you guys," Kevin says, sounding so calm. "I'm _fine_ , honest. There was no need for any of that over-reaction."

"You are _not_ fine!" Cecil exclaims, voice about an octave higher than usual.

"I _so_ am," Kevin insists. "I feel great!"

"You just tried to kill me!"

"Oh, Cecil, not _kill_ you. Just… encourage you to see things my way."

"With violence!"

"With… OK, with a little violence. But! Think how much _happier_ you'll be when you stop resisting!"

" _Shush_ ," Carlos interrupts, in his very best wrangling-the-scientists voice – so much so that Frederick, still working away frantically off to the side, seems to jump at the tone. "Now, _you_ ," – he points at Kevin – "stop talking and behave. And _you_ ," – now he gestures to Cecil – "stop provoking him. Because you are, and I think deep down you know it."

"I am not provoking him!" Cecil insists, looking a little scandalised, but he doesn't argue any further. Most likely because he realises that Carlos is, in fact, right.

There's a very awkward silence.

"…All done, now?" Naomi asks, eventually.

Kevin and Cecil both give matching, slightly sullen-looking nods.

"Good." And Naomi finally relaxes her hold on Kevin. The second after she does, he launches forwards – going for Carlos again – but before he can get more than a few steps there's movement off to the side, a sudden, sharp hiss, and Kevin immediately collapses, a blowdart in his shoulder.

Cecil, Carlos and Naomi stare down at him, and then over at Frederick, who lowers the blowpipe he's holding and goes back to his equipment. "What?" he says, seeing their stunned expressions. "I have a brother in the Secret Police. And you can relax, it's only dipped in sedative. He'll be fine in an hour or so."

"…Has the Bloodstone affected him too?" Cecil stage-whispers.

"…No. This… this is normal for Frederick," Carlos manages.

He drops down onto his knees, rolling Kevin onto his back and removing the blowdart from his shoulder, before checking his pulse, just to be safe. "What kind of sedative did you use?" he can't help asking.

Frederick shrugs. "A liquid version of my night-time special."

"So… he's going to have a killer headache when he wakes up?"

"Yep. That'll teach him to go crazy when I'm trying to do science."

"You do realise he can't stop himself?"

"Yep. But that doesn't mean motivation won't work."

Carlos facepalms, and looks guiltily up at Cecil. "…Help me get Kevin in the van?"

Cecil doesn't argue – he looks more than a little guilty himself – and between them they carefully carry their unconscious boyfriend over to the van, laying him down in the back.

"I… you know… sorry about before," Cecil says. "I got a bit carried away. I… I think that thing was in my head too."

"I know," Carlos replies. "It's OK."

Even over here, with the Bloodstone only just out of sight, he's starting to feel better. The thought of having to go back to it is not a welcome one, and for a few moments he just sits in the rear of the van, in the comforting darkness, trying to push all of the _thoughts_ out of his head.

"I need to go help Frederick finish up," he says, finally. "Can you stay with Kevin?"

Cecil nods. He still looks a little shell-shocked; perhaps more so now that he's coming down from whatever that thing did to him. "Yes. Of course. I… I really am sorry."

"Seriously, it's OK," Carlos tells him, moving to pull Cecil into a hug. "I'd say… I'd say I wish I'd made both of you stay back at the house, but… but I don't know if I could have faced that thing on my own. Is… is that wrong of me?"

"No," Cecil whispers. "It's precisely why neither of us was willing to _let_ you face it alone, even though… even though we knew…"

He looks over at Kevin, who is quietly unconscious, breathing softly. "I'm scared for him," Cecil admits. "Scared for what this place is doing to him. I know that thing is powerful, but it… it took hold of him _fast_. And the longer he stays here… the worse it's going to get."

"I know," Carlos replies, voice shaking a little. "We… we just have to be there to pull him back. Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes to keep him safe until we can figure out a way to destroy that thing."

Cecil nods, trying to look resolute. "You're right. And we can. We can do this."

Carlos grips his hand. "Yes," he agrees. "We can."

But for how much longer?


	9. Vindicated

_I am flawed_  
_But I am cleaning up so well_  
_I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself_

~ Dashboard Confessional: _'Vindicated'_

***

Kevin starts to wake up just as they arrive back at Naomi's place.

"… _Oh_ …" he breathes, pressing a hand to his forehead and murmuring something under his breath that sounds like " _Teoi_ ," though Carlos doesn't have a clue what this means or even what language it's in. "I… _wow_ , that hurts. I… OK, have I just been in for re-education again? Because right now I feel like…"

"Frederick shot you with a blowdart," Carlos tells him, interrupting before Kevin can go into too much detail about _why_ he feels like he's just come out of re-education. "Because you went a bit crazy."

"I… oh… I…" Kevin shuts his eyes. "…Sorry… I… Seriously, I feel like someone beat me about the head with a two-by-four…"

"That would be the night-time special," Cecil says. "The blowdart was dipped in it."

"You'll be fine in a few hours," Frederick insists, looking not the slightest bit guilty. "Honest. If you haven't had any side-effects by now, then once the headache wears off you'll be back to normal. Maybe resist the urge to kill anyone, though. So I don't have to blowdart you again."

"Frederick!" Carlos exclaims.

"What?" Frederick replies. "It was tactical. And it worked, didn't it?"

Unfortunately it _did_ work, and given how badly things were going at the time, Carlos is really in no position to argue.

Kevin is still a little unsteady, so Carlos and Cecil help him out of the van, each keeping an arm around him as they all head into the house. Their arrival has obviously already been noticed because Steve immediately comes hurrying into the hall from the living room, stopping dead when he sees them and staring in equal parts resignation and horror.

"…OK, seriously, is this a thing with you three?!" he exclaims, taking in the sight of them. And they do make quite a sight: all of them covered in blood – _again_ – and standing close together, Kevin still mildly delirious and Cecil and Carlos clearly holding him up. The fact that Naomi and Frederick are both basically bloodless in comparison only makes it worse.

"Just don't, Steve," Cecil says, flatly. "Just… just don't."

"I take it things didn't go well?" Steve asks.

"Oh, we got the readings we needed," Carlos answers. "So in that respect it was a complete success. Unfortunately, the Bloodstone made us all go a bit crazy, Kevin especially. One thing led to another, some weaponry was involved, and then Frederick decided to put a stop to it by shooting Kevin with a blowdart."

Steve stares in stunned silence for several seconds. "…You guys should have your own show," he manages, at last.

"We _do_ have our own show!" Cecil exclaims.

"Everything OK here whilst we were gone?" Naomi cuts across, before the two of them can get any worse.

"Oh, sure," Steve answers. "Mostly. I… well, I'm a little worried about Kirsten. Kevin, you might want to go talk to her when you're feeling… you know, whatever classes as 'more normal' for you. But otherwise… yeah, we've been fine. Gillian and I have been trying to get into the Strex mainframe – and, let me tell you, it is _not_ easy. But the kid has talent like you've never seen. She's got a bright future ahead of her on the Dark Net."

"…Can you _have_ a _bright_ future on the _Dark_ Net?" Cecil asks.

Steve glowers at him.

"Well," says Frederick, seemingly oblivious, "tomorrow we can get started on developing a way to take the Bloodstone out. I already have a few ideas."

"I'll help," Carlos tells him. "The sooner we stop what that thing is doing to us all, the better."

This is an understatement. Carlos doesn't know how long they have before Kevin ends up completely enthralled again. He seems OK for the moment, but they can't exactly blowdart him every time he goes weird.

"I should go and see Kirsten," Kevin says, suddenly.

" _After_ you deal with the blood," Cecil insists.

"…You can tell you're not from around here," Kevin replies, with a grin.

But he doesn't argue.

***

It's very late by the time Kevin does go to see Kirsten. Or early. Possibly it counts as early now. And all of it is relative anyway, on account of the non-existence of time.

Possibly Carlos is overthinking everything again.

Kevin asks the two of them to come with him. They haven't spent much time with Kirsten since they rescued her the previous night, but he says he wants them to. And whilst Carlos is confident this is true, he suspects there's more to it. He suspects – though he doesn't quite dare ask – that Kevin is increasingly aware that he needs someone keeping an eye on him as much as possible.

And he doesn't want to put that pressure on his sister. Not after what she's been through.

They find Kirsten on the second floor, in the main hallway, where there's an open area near one of the large windows, with a couple of couches and a rather lethal-looking potted plant. Kirsten is here, sitting on one of the couches, staring out at the dark city vista beyond the glass.

"Hey," Kevin says, carefully. "You want some company?"

Kirsten looks round at them. "Sure," she replies. "Although… you know, shouldn't you three be curled in an adorable tangle somewhere?"

Kevin gives her an odd look. "OK, one, you're my sister, so don't think about it in that much detail. And two… we will be, later. But I wanted to come see you first and I figured Cecil and Carlos should join me."

"Absolutely," Kirsten agrees, giving them a genuine – if tired – smile, and they settle on the couches: Cecil and Carlos taking the one opposite, and Kevin moving to sit beside his sister. "So," Kirsten goes on, after a moment, "Cecil… I understand I'm your sister's double?"

"Yes," he tells her. "The two of you are… pretty much identical."

"Is it weird?" she asks.

" _Very_ weird," he replies. "And your daughter is identical to my niece. You'd think I'd be used to the whole thing by now, but… apparently not so much."

"What's she like, my double?"

"Caitlin? Well, so far she's a lot like you," Cecil tells her. "Smart and brave and sometimes just a little bit scary. Though she did marry Steve, so I guess she must have fallen on her head at some point earlier in life…"

"Yeah, Kevin said Steve was married to your sister. I imagine this must be even weirder for him."

"I… would guess so."

"It explains why he's so good with Gillian, though. It's such a relief that she's OK. I mean, when I was… when Strex had me, I thought…" Kirsten trails off, eyes suddenly distant and haunted. "…I can't thank you enough for getting me out of there. Seriously."

"Well, don't mention it," Cecil insists. "There was never any question. You're family."

Kirsten looks like she's welling up at that, and she lets Kevin hug her. She does bat him off again after a moment, but it's clear from her expression that she appreciates it really.

"So, Carlos, two of them?" she now says, managing a rather wicked grin despite everything. "That must be… interesting."

"Trust me, that's an understatement," he replies. "I tried to write a paper on it but most of it was unpublishable."

"And unrepeatable to my sister," Kevin adds, pointedly.

"Yes," Carlos agrees. "And unrepeatable to pretty much everyone, actually." He drops his voice to a deliberate stage-whisper. "Sometimes I read parts of it to these two, though," he confides, more than a little wickedly. "They like it when I talk _science_."

Somewhat impressively, this remark is enough to get both Cecil and Kevin to blush.

"I'm _very_ into science," Cecil says.

"Me too," Kevin agrees.

"Oh, you three are just right for each other, aren't you..?" Kirsten says. "I'm glad. Smiling God knows _you_ are _wretched_ when you're single."

"I'm a ray of sunshine all the time!" Kevin insists. "And yes, I'm infinitely happ _ier_ now we're together, but that hardly means I was _wretched_ before."

"What about that time Ted tried to set you up on a blind date?" Kirsten asks, flatly.

"Ted?" Cecil says.

"Hm? Oh, Ted. He's the weatherman at the radio station here," Kevin explains. "Long-time colleague and friend of mine. Has the _hugest_ crush on me despite being completely straight and happily married to a woman, so one time he set me up on a blind date with one of his friends."

"And… it didn't go well?" Cecil surmises.

"Nope," Kevin answers.

"That isn't the important part, though," Kirsten chips in. "The _important_ part is that you turned the guy in question in to Strex!"

"He was conducting unauthorised summoning rituals!" Kevin insists. "It's very illegal! And I was extremely law-abiding back then!"

"Kevin, dearest brother, you were just sore because the guy never called again."

"That too!" Kevin exclaims. "How could you _not_ want to call me back? I'm positively _adorable!_ "

"…He does have a point," Cecil chips in, looking like he's fighting the urge to laugh.

"Don't you enable him!" Kirsten insists, faux-sternly.

" _So_ ," Cecil says, instead, "you grew up with Kevin… which means you must have all _sorts_ of stories you could tell us…"

This gets him quite a look from Kevin. "Cecil, you continue down this line and next time I see _your_ sister, I _will_ ask her to elaborate on the thing about you and the existential macaroni…"

"Don't you dare!" Cecil exclaims.

"…Actually I think I already know that one," Carlos can't help revealing.

Which means both of them are doomed. But the crucial thing is that Kirsten is smiling… and that, Carlos knows, was the point all along.

If nothing else… it's a good end to a difficult day. And that's got to count for something.

***

When they all gather for breakfast the next morning, Frederick does not look happy.

"…I can hear it," he says, between mouthfuls of strong coffee. "I woke up and it was just _there_ , in my head, like a whole darned chorus line. The humming was one thing, but this... How do you put up with it?"

"You just… kinda do," Carlos replies, though he knows this isn't exactly helpful. "When it gets too much, you need to try to… to hear _past_ it, and catch onto what it _really_ sounds like. And that… that isn't pleasant, but it will definitely help in the long run."

Frederick pauses a second, closing his eyes. Then he opens them, rubs both his temples, and closes them again. And after another moment… his eyes shoot back open.

"…OK, I don't want to hear _that_ ," he manages – for once sounding genuinely rattled.

"I know," Cecil says, understandingly. "Carlos is right, though: sometimes you need to. Otherwise…"

"…You start to slip," Kevin adds. "And it gets gradually worse and worse until…"

"…someone shoots you with a blowdart?" Frederick concludes.

"…Yes," Kevin answers, wryly. "That."

"…I don't mean to interrupt this little angst-fest," Steve cuts in, "but… I still only hear the humming."

Everyone stares at him. "You don't hear the song?" Naomi asks.

Steve shakes his head. "Nope. Not even a little."

"…Steve Carlsberg, you are a freak of nature," Cecil murmurs.

"Maybe it's just taking longer in your case," Carlos says, before Steve can respond to the baiting and this degenerates into another verbal duel. "Although… I guess there could be another reason."

"We should do some tests on you!" Frederick exclaims, looking suddenly brighter. "For _science!_ "

"No one is doing science on me!" Steve replies.

"But Steve, it could be _vital to our survival_ ," Cecil says, in his most ingratiating tone.

"Suppose we absolutely promise not to cut your head open?" Frederick asks.

"Frederick!" Carlos exclaims. "No! If I can rig us up a brainwave pattern analyser, we can try that, but under no circumstances are you allowed to perform any invasive procedures on my boyfriend's brother-in-law!"

Frederick pouts and goes back to studiously downing his coffee.

"Well," Naomi says, brightly, "we should get to the matter in hand. Both James and Lawrence will be dropping by later – I don't know where James is hiding out, but he wants to use it as his base of operations for the time being – and when they do I think we should discuss bringing Grandma Josephine in on this as well."

"Agreed," Kevin replies. "We need to get the four of them together. Then we can start working out how they're supposed to save this place. It would help if we knew precisely what the original prophecy said."

"I can make some enquiries," Naomi tells him. "I have to go into HQ this afternoon for a board meeting… oh, give me strength…"

"…A board meeting?" Cecil repeats. "You mean… the _Management_ Board?"

Naomi nods. "That's the one. Of the original five, my dad and one of the others died during the Battle of Night Vale, so Lauren and I took their places. It's going to be _hideous_. Lauren will spend the entire time swinging between crowing about her current plan with the Bloodstone – though I might get some useful intel out of that – and bemoaning the fact that you three got away from her."

"Speaking of the Bloodstone," Kirsten says, "are you any closer to working out how to destroy it?"

"That's the crucial question," Carlos answers. "Frederick and I managed to get a fair amount of data on it last night, so we'll spend the day going over it and hopefully… we can come up with something."

"Oh, we'll come up with something," Frederick adds. " _Anything_ to get this psychic noise to stop."

If nothing else, it's excellent motivation.

***

So they work. And they work. Lawrence and James both turn up – separately – after lunch, and sit discussing things with Cecil and Kevin, whilst Carlos and Frederick keep trying to reach a solution on the Bloodstone. They go through their data, bit by bit, Frederick taking the lead because he _is_ the expert in this field, and soon Carlos has learned more about mystical rocks than he _ever_ wanted to know.

They run through a whole range of potential destruction options – including one that involves building a new version of Frederick's death ray, which Carlos swiftly vetoes – but nothing that seems genuinely viable.

It's late in the day when Frederick sits back, looking ready to fling his chalk at the board that Naomi has so considerately provided for them (scientists work much better with access to a proper chalkboard. Everyone knows this. It's why the Night Vale City Council had to re-legalise chalk after they outlawed other writing implements – because, without it, science in the town ground to a complete halt.)

"Carlos, I don't know how much more I can take," he says. "The data rules out most of the usual tricks for destroying mystical rocks of this type, and given that you said no to the death ray… I'm starting to think we'll have to revert to the plan involving C4…"

"Frederick, we are _not_ using plastic explosives on that thing," Carlos replies, with a shudder. "I don't even want to _think_ about what the conjunction of the two would do."

"Explode?" Frederick suggests. "Blowing it apart is still our best option, you know."

"I know," Carlos concedes. "I just don't think C4 is the answer."

"Well, something must be," Frederick goes on, rubbing at his head again. " _Anything_ to get this psychic song to stop."

"I bet the wretched crystal doesn't have to listen to it all the time," Carlos says, understandingly. "Things would be different if it did…"

They both stop and stare at each other.

"Carlos, you're a genius!" Frederick exclaims, leaping up and bouncing on his heels.

"You're thinking the same as me, then?" Carlos replies, also leaping up.

"Heck, yes," Frederick answers. "It would be…"

"…fitting…"

"…appropriate…"

"…deliciously apt…"

"…emotionally satisfying…"

"…all we need is to induce…"

"… _total resonance inversion!_ " they both declare, in unison.

They promptly high-five, then immediately start pretending they did no such thing.

"It's possible, though?" Carlos asks, finally daring to hope.

"Oh, it's possible," Frederick replies. "I've done it once before, though not on a rock of this size or power level. But the principle is the same. We should start work on building an inverter immediately. If we can get what we need… we might be done by this time tomorrow."

Carlos dares to hope some more. Could this be it? Could they finally be on the verge of destroying the Bloodstone?

Maybe, at last, things are looking up.

***

When Naomi gets back from her board meeting – which everyone notices because it's hard to miss a helicopter landing right outside – she's hopping mad.

"I'm going to kill her!" she exclaims, when Darla asks what's wrong. "I am going to kill that sister of mine and _then_ we'll see who's laughing!"

"Nay, Nay, seriously, take a breath," Darla urges. "You want me to go curse her for you? I can totally do that. It would make this much quicker."

"Oh no, no, I want to do it myself," Naomi hisses, and Darla has to pry her wife's hand off the knife she's wearing at her back. "I'm going to _eviscerate_ the wretched woman and then you can resurrect her using your necromancy, just so I can _kill her again!_ "

"…I take it things didn't go well?" Kevin cuts in, carefully.

"No, Kevin, they did _not_ go well," Naomi replies, seeming like she's about to snap at him but stopping herself when Darla gives her something of a look.

"Naomi," Darla says, pointedly. " _Indoor_ voice."

Naomi pauses and takes a deep breath. "I… sorry, I… seriously, I can summon elemental evil without blinking and discuss quarterly profits 'til the world just looks like a series of graphs, but make me spend five minutes in a room with my sister and I suddenly lose all lingering restraint not to turn into a _psychotic murderer!_ "

"What happened?" Kevin pushes, looking like he understands completely and seeming entirely unfazed by the current swarm of incandescent rage that is their generous host.

"…Not only was Lauren positively _insufferable_ all the way through, do you know what she did?" Naomi asks. "She finished up by _inviting herself over_ , right in front of everyone, so there was _no_ way I could refuse without looking bad."

Everyone stops dead and stares at her.

"…Lauren Mallard is coming _here?_ " Cecil manages.

"Yep," Naomi answers, ruefully. "Tonight. For dinner."

"…The leader of Strexcorp is coming to the house currently being used as the primary base of operations for the fledgling _anti_ -Strexcorp alliance?" Cecil tries again, as if hoping he might be able to get a different response.

"Yep," Naomi confirms. "She'll be here at seven, and if she spots so much as the _slightest_ sign I've got houseguests, we're all in trouble."

"…Please tell me we don't have to hide in the basement?" Carlos murmurs, head in his hands.

"You don't have to hide in the basement," Naomi replies. "But, by Ozhen'ipleth, you all have to hide somewhere. Except you, Darla, obviously. You have to stay and defend me from the maniac."

Darla rolls her eyes. "…Can't I have a headache? Or, you know, the plague?"

"I'm being serious," Naomi answers, and there's the barest pleading edge to her tone. "If you don't keep an eye on me, it _will_ end badly. We remember what happened at my birthday party two years ago, yes?"

 _Darla_ shudders. Watching a self-confessed necromancer shudder is _extremely_ disconcerting. "…Yes," she concedes. "We had to have the entire dining room stripped out and deep-cleaned. And exorcised."

"And Dad took _Lauren's_ side, of _course_ ," Naomi adds.

"…What happened?" Cecil seemingly can't help asking.

"…We don't talk about it," Naomi replies. "But I will say… it involved a dispute over cake. And the quarterly profit margins."

Cecil looks confused. He isn't the only one. "…Which are connected because..?"

"…You don't want to know," is all Naomi will say in response to this. "So. The whole lot of you are going to need to hide up on the third floor until my _dear_ sister retreats back to her _lair_ , or _whatever_ she calls that ridiculous penthouse she has."

"…Forgive me if I'm being insensitive," Kevin interjects, "but wouldn't it save us a _lot_ of trouble if we _did_ just kill her when she turns up? I mean… I imagine she won't have that many enforcers with her. And you're next in line for her job."

"Only if the rest of the board approved it," Naomi replies. "And they won't. Lauren's got the three of them wrapped so tight around her little finger, they'd probably jump in front of a bullet for her. Plus, if we tip our hand whilst the Bloodstone is still in play… at least half the town would march up here in search of revenge. No, no… much as it hurts, I'm just going to have to do this…"

Well. There goes the one quiet night Carlos had thought he might get.

***

By the time seven o'clock rolls around, they've moved anything that might give away the fact that Naomi has houseguests – especially the makeshift lab in her studio – and everyone has retreated up to the third floor.

Except, that is, for Carlos, Cecil and Kevin. The fact of the matter is, having Lauren somewhere that they can listen in on her is just too good an opportunity to pass up. They haven't admitted this to Naomi or Darla though, given the reaction it would likely elicit, which means they'll be in even more trouble if they get caught.

It might be a bad idea. Carlos knows this. But if their primary opponent is coming to dinner, they really can't miss out on the chance to catch even a few snippets of what she might be up to. And waiting for Naomi to relate bits of it to them afterwards just… isn't the same. Isn't _enough_.

They lurk on the second floor landing, lying flat on their stomachs close to the edge of the stairs, listening. And, at almost precisely seven o'clock, there's the roar of a helicopter outside, followed – moments later – by a knock at the front door.

"Kill me now," they can hear Naomi muttering to Darla.

But there's no getting out of it. The door is opened, and at once Lauren's chipper voice cuts the air. "Naomi! Lovely to see you."

"You saw me this afternoon," Naomi points out.

"Oh, yes, but that was _work_ ," Lauren insists, brightly. "And Darla! How are you doing?"

"Just great," Darla replies. She's better at hiding her emotions than Naomi is, though there's an edge to her voice that makes Carlos think accepting any invitations to 'come see the basement' would be a very bad idea on Lauren's part.

"I just _love_ what you've done with the garden," Lauren goes on. "It's positively _charming_."

"Oh, that was mostly Darla," Naomi tells her. "She has such an eye for these things."

Having _seen_ the garden, Carlos tries hard not to think about it.

" _Well_ ," Lauren now says, "what do you have planned for tonight? I just can't wait!"

"Cocktails," Naomi answers, in the tone of someone who thinks alcohol would be a very good idea. "Then food. Then… I don't know, maybe Pictionary."

"What, no Twister?" Lauren asks, with a disconcertingly wicked edge to her voice.

"We're not at Business School anymore, Lauren," Naomi points out.

"Oh, Naomi, live a little!"

"…This is me living. This is me living just plenty. Now, come on… I could _murder_ a Bloody Mary…"

***

They have to listen from a distance whilst the three women have pre-dinner cocktails in the living room, given that the door to the hallway is wide open and anyone coming down the stairs would be clearly visible. Once they go on into the dining room, however, Carlos looks sideways at the other two.

"We need to get closer," he whispers. "We can risk it now."

"…If this goes wrong, we _will_ end up having to hide in the basement," Cecil points out. "But… you're right. We need to listen in on everything we can."

They head downstairs, moving as quietly as possible, and slip through to listen at the dining room door.

It's quite an ordeal. All three women spend the time making carefully-measured small talk, to the point where it's like the verbal equivalent of combatants circling over and over before a battle. There's a brief moment where Lauren gushes about the food – Naomi has once more done the cooking, so this likely means it _is_ good – but then she goes back to the small talk.

It's only as they're settling down with coffee and the remnants of Naomi's 'signature chocolate-chilli mousse' that Lauren finally says, "…Would you mind if I talked work for a moment? It's totally cool if you'd rather I didn't."

"Go right ahead," Naomi answers, slightly overdoing the enthusiasm (probably because _anything_ is better than the small talk).

"Yeah, I don't mind," Darla adds. "I love it when you guys go all corporate. Reminds me what a powerhouse I married into…"

This statement likely serves both to butter up Lauren and wind up Naomi. It certainly seems to work in Lauren's case. "Oh, you," she says, with a rather saccharine edge to her tone. "Well. This whole thing with the Bloodstone? It's working faster than I hoped. We should be ready to make a move in… two days, max."

"What exactly are you doing to it?" Darla asks, as if she has no idea and is genuinely interested in learning more.

"We're supercharging it, of course," Lauren answers. "That's why we've got everyone focusing their community spirit at the same time each morning. I hope you've been joining in!"

"Sure we have," Naomi lies. "Such a great way to start the day. We should do it all the time."

"I _know_ , right?" Lauren agrees. "Well, the Bloodstone just _loves_ that kind of community togetherness, and its power increases as a result. And eventually… eventually it will be so strong, it will be able to haul its twin under Night Vale up out of the ground, and into the bright light of day. And _then_ … well, then, everything changes. For the best. For us."

Carlos shivers, and grips Cecil's hand. Whatever it takes… they can't let this plan come to fruition.

"You know what's even better?" Lauren goes on. "The Bloodstone also feeds off sunlight. So this morning… I communed with the Smiling God and – long story short – tomorrow we're getting a second sunrise!"

"Oh… good," Naomi manages. "So we don't get a _night_ tomorrow night?"

"Nope! Just more hours of useful, _productive_ sunlight."

"…How _do_ you commune with the Smiling God?" Darla asks.

"Really darn carefully!" Lauren answers. "I've only ever done it once before. After… you know. After Dad died."

"After you were done _eviscerating_ half the workforce…" Naomi mutters.

"Oh, Naomi, it was _hardly_ half the workforce," Lauren insists, entirely unruffled. "I just dealt with the people whose crippling incompetence led to our eviction from Night Vale and the murder of our father. That was a very, very bad day for Strexcorp. Possibly the worst in our history. But out of those ashes… a new and amazing future will rise. Night Vale will be ours again all too soon. And then… who knows what's next? We can expand even further. Maybe out towards Pine Cliff…"

"You are _so_ like him…" Naomi now says.

"Like who? Like Dad?"

"Yeah."

"…You really think so?" Lauren asks, a hopeful hint to her voice. "I… well, I always hoped I'd live up to his legacy. He left some pretty big shoes to fill."

"Lauren, I am confident he'd be proud of you," Naomi tells her, sounding very much like she means it (albeit perhaps not in the way Lauren thinks). "He was _always_ proud of you. The only thing you ever did wrong was marry Adam Mallard, and I'm sure bumping the guy off after a few years pretty much made up even for that."

"That _was_ you, then?" Darla asks. "The thing with the conference room and the ceiling fans?"

"Oh, goodness, yes," Lauren replies. "If Dad had done it, you can bet it would have involved a summoning of some kind. Me… I guess I'm more new-school when it comes to that kind of thing. I mean, I _have_ a demon, sure, but I don't use him to solve all my problems. Plus it would have been kinda obvious I'd done it. Whereas the ceiling fan thing…" She trails off for a moment. "One of my best ideas, actually."

"Why did you marry him in the first place?" Darla now pushes.

"'Cause I liked him," Lauren answers. "He only turned out to be a problem later on. To start out with… he was good. And, you know, _so_ dedicated to Strexcorp. And…"

"…Straight?" Naomi says, in what is clearly meant to be a wryly-understanding tone.

"Yeah," Lauren agrees.

Carlos looks sideways at Kevin, who is now studiously avoiding his eyes.

"Is it true about you and Kevin, then?" Darla pushes. Exactly how much she really knows is hard to say, but the likelihood is that she knows as much as Naomi – which seems to be a lot – and is just trying to subtly wind Lauren up some more.

"Well, yes and no," Lauren answers, a little wistfully. "I mean, nothing happened. Dad tried to set us up. He was really fond of Kevin, right until the point where the man _betrayed us_ and got him killed. But in the beginning… yeah, I wanted it to be a thing. Even suggested a marriage of convenience when I realised a regular one wouldn't work. Said he could have as many secret boyfriends as he wanted – said he could even bring them home and share if they were that way inclined – but… no. It was clearly impossible. Probably for the best, I guess, given the whole _betrayal_ thing."

"…I guess so," Darla agrees.

"You know he's back in town?" Lauren goes on. "I mean, of course you do, we had him on the radio the other day and I'm _sure_ Naomi will have told you all the behind-the-scenes stuff. Well, when we first grabbed him, I had him taken _straight_ to the Bloodstone to… give his civic pride a little booster. He was _much_ more helpful after that. He'd _still_ be helping us if those two _wretched_ Night Valean boyfriends of his hadn't absconded with him… but, you know what? The joke's on them…"

"What do you mean?" Naomi asks, perhaps a little too quickly, although Lauren is on a roll and doesn't seem to notice.

"Well," Lauren says, in the tone of someone excitedly approaching their big reveal, "once I had sorted out our wayward broadcaster's loyalty issues, I gave him a number of instructions. First among them was this… that, if his wretched Night Valean boyfriends _did_ manage to abscond with him, and try to break him free from the _loving_ influence of the Bloodstone… he was to resist at first, and then… slowly but surely, start acting like it was working."

"…Working?" Darla repeats.

"Yep," Lauren answers. "Until it looked like they'd _fixed_ him, or however they sell the _blasphemy_ of going against the Bloodstone. But all the time, he'd _actually_ still be working for me. He'd _actually_ still be loyal to Strexcorp. And they'd have no idea…"

By now, Carlos has gone cold as ice. He stares sideways at Kevin, whose expression is shot full of horror, and who actually takes a step back – especially in the face of the look he's now getting from Cecil – holding up a hand and shaking his head.

 _He'd actually still be loyal to Strexcorp_. Is he? Has Kevin been fooling them all this time? The mere thought is like being shot full of poison, and Carlos finds himself fighting the urge to make a run for it.

There's more talking in the room beyond, but Carlos is no longer processing a word of it. Cecil moves in front of him, staring at Kevin in shock. And despite the fact that they can't risk making a sound, they still manage to say a great deal with just their eyes.

And none of it is good.

Cecil takes a step closer to Kevin, who puts a finger to his lips and shakes his head again, expression full of urgency.

But Cecil is clearly having none of it. There's a moment when the three of them are all poised on the cusp of action… and then they move. Kevin darts off, managing to keep his footfalls silent as he runs, and Cecil races after him, Carlos following along behind. They make it as far as the hallway but, when they do, Kevin skids to a halt, clearly aware that he isn't going to be able to run up the stairs at speed without making a sound.

His mind obviously processes his options and he darts off again towards the back of the house. This helpfully takes them further away from the dining room, but it isn't going to be enough if they start making any kind of noise.

And Kevin clearly knows that too. He _also_ clearly knows he's rapidly running out of options, which is most likely why he now races off towards the one place that neither Carlos nor Cecil wants to go:

The door to the basement.

He pulls it open and darts down the dark steps beyond.

Carlos and Cecil pause a second, exchanging a look. But they have no choice. They take a deep breath… and set off after him. Carlos makes certain to shut the door once they're through, hoping that this will keep their voices from carrying when they inevitably get Kevin cornered down there.

It can't be much longer now. Unless this place has secret passages – which, fair enough, it might – then there isn't a lot further Kevin can go.

The basement itself consists of a large central room that… OK, don't look at it, don't look at it, _don't look at it_ … and two further passageways, one on either side. Kevin races off down the left-hand one – with both his boyfriends in close pursuit – and promptly has to skid to a halt again after a moment because he's cornered.

Mercifully, the narrower room they're in now is empty, save for a clear, raised stone slab in the centre (best not to think what Darla uses _that_ for) and a fair few strange symbols drawn on the smooth walls. But they are at least drawn in what looks like charcoal, rather than blood, and there isn't any other sign of blood – or anything worse – in the room.

It is only a _small_ mercy, but right now Carlos will take whatever he can get.

Kevin turns to face them, holding up his hands and making it quite clear he's not trying to go for his knife. "Look, just take a breath and think about this," he implores. "She's _messing_ with you. She either knows we're here or suspects we are, and she's trying to throw us off."

"There's no way Lauren knows we're here," Cecil insists. "How could she? No, if she said those things…"

Carlos doesn't know what to say. What to think. He feels like his mind has blue-screened. "…Cecil," he manages. "Cecil, just… just take a moment. Even if Lauren doesn't know we're here, even if she only barely suspects it… she still might say something like that. She might just be trying to make Naomi think she's still in control of the situation."

"Or it might be _true_ ," Cecil replies, taking another step towards Kevin, and – caught between them, physically and emotionally – Carlos does the only thing he can think of, which is to put a hand on Cecil's chest and meet his eyes.

"Cecil… what if this is the Bloodstone talking?" Carlos says, desperately. "If you were thinking clearly… you'd know this is most likely Lauren trying to mess with us."

"And if _you_ were thinking clearly, you'd realise you're defending a man who once served Strexcorp with all his heart and soul!" Cecil retorts, somewhat sharply, before promptly realising he's snapped and looking suddenly horrified, backing off a few paces with guilt in his eyes.

"…You both have a valid point," Kevin interjects, softly, looking closer to breaking down than Carlos thinks he's ever seen him. "And I… I can't prove anything to you. No matter what I say… I could be lying. I know that. You know that. There is no guarantee I can give you that I haven't been trying to undermine you this whole time…"

He draws his knife with a sudden _ching_ , which resonates ominously in the stone-walled room, brandishing the blade slowly and clearly. Cecil reacts at once, trying to move in front of Carlos again, but Kevin holds up a hand, dark eyes full of emotion, and takes a careful step forward, laying the weapon on the stone slab in the centre of the room before backing off several paces, hands held out.

"I can't prove a thing to you either way," Kevin re-iterates. "So… you do what you have to do."

Cecil reaches to pick up the knife very rapidly, hesitating with it for a second… and then turning to hand it to Carlos. Wanting to keep it away from _both_ of them right now, Carlos backs off more than a little, moving around to the other side of the stone slab, still watching his two boyfriends in alarm.

"You look me in the eyes and tell me the truth," Cecil says to Kevin, taking another step towards him.

"Cecil… anything I say to you could be a lie," Kevin apparently can't help pointing out. And he's quite correct. The man is a practiced liar. He kept most of Strexcorp convinced of his undying loyalty right up to the moment before he set his demon on their boss. And Carlos is confident that fooling Derek Hartley was no easy matter.

"I know that," Cecil replies, and his voice is cracking a little now. "I _know_. I just… I just need to hear you say it."

"…But you _can't_ trust me," Kevin insists. His voice is cracking too, and he now looks seconds away from breaking down, and it's a special kind of agony to watch. "You can't. You… you _shouldn't_."

" _Masters of us all_ , Kevin, would you just _say_ it already?!" Cecil pleads.

"I'm not working for Lauren!" Kevin exclaims, suddenly. "When you broke the Bloodstone's hold on me, you broke it and – with the brief exception of what happened last night – I haven't fallen back under. I _haven't_. And even when she _did_ have me under, I was fighting it with all I had. You do _not_ want to know what she _really_ wanted me to do to Carlos when I took him off to question him, and you _certainly_ don't want to know how hard I had to fight to get myself to throw those enforcers out of the room when we were at the radio station. Do you _know_ what it feels like when you _really_ fight the Bloodstone? I mean, _really?_ It feels like you're being ripped in half from the inside. And I would do it a _thousand_ times if that's what it took. I would _die_ before I let them hurt either of you. I would…"

He doesn't get any further though because at this point Cecil grabs hold of him, pulling him into a crushingly tight hug, and Kevin all but collapses against him, not resisting in the slightest. As the two of them pretty much fall into each other, Carlos puts the knife down on the stone slab and hurries over to them, throwing his arms around them both.

It's a moment before any of them can get a word out. "…I'm sorry," Cecil manages, finally. "I'm so sorry. I should never have…"

"…No," Kevin interrupts. "No. You're right to be careful. You still should be. _Anything_ I say could be a lie."

"Anything _any_ of us says could be a lie," Cecil points out, softly. "That's human nature. And being in a relationship means trusting that what you say _isn't_ a lie. You weren't lying when you said you'd come to help us, that day outside our place. You weren't lying when you helped us rescue John from the house that doesn't exist. And you weren't lying when you faced down Derek Hartley and refused to kill me."

"I also wasn't under the influence of the Bloodstone at any of those times," Kevin says.

"Maybe not," Cecil accepts. "But you have exactly the same look in your eyes."

"Cecil, over the course of two weeks I lured at least half a dozen Strex employees to the house that doesn't exist and _murdered them!_ " Kevin exclaims. "I'm _very_ convincing. This is what I do!"

"Kevin!" Cecil retorts, a little desperately, pushing back – which makes Carlos jump and let go – but only so that he can grasp his double's shoulders instead. "I am telling you I trust you! Now _please_ just accept it before Lauren wins this one by default!"

Kevin goes silent and – after a moment – he nods. Cecil tugs him in again, hand out to pull Carlos back in too, and the three of them collapse into a second, tighter hug.

It's times like these that Carlos processes how terrified they all are. How dangerous what they're doing really is. And this… this is a choice. What happened in Night Vale was pretty much a necessity, but what's happening in Desert Bluffs… that's all on them.

"…I'm sorry we chased you into the basement," Cecil finally says, sounding rather guilty.

"It's OK," Kevin replies. "It was probably sensible in the long run." He manages a smile. "No pun intended."

"…It's important no one lets me see what's out in the main room again, though," Carlos adds. "Because it's already giving me nightmares."

"We can't risk going back upstairs just yet," Kevin points out. "If they've moved, there's a high chance they'll see us, and we won't be able to tell until it's too late."

Cecil looks resigned. "…So we just have to sit down here and wait until someone comes looking for us?"

"I'm sure I can think of a few ways to keep you both occupied…" Kevin now says, smiling rather more and tracing a finger down Cecil's chest.

" _Kevin_ ," Carlos interjects. "Not in the creepy necromancy basement!"

"…Oh, fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Linear-B translation notes:
> 
> Teoi - "gods"


	10. Just One Yesterday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Advance warning: this chapter is very dark in places. If nothing else, I highly recommend you read the central scene at the Bloodstone in one go, to reduce trauma. I had to _write_ it in one go for that precise reason!

_If Heaven's grief brings Hell's reign_  
_Then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday_

~ Fall Out Boy: _'Just One Yesterday'_

***

It's quite a while before anyone comes looking for them. They spend the time sitting side by side, sometimes talking and sometimes just resting close to each other, wondering what's going on upstairs.

Eventually, there's the sound of the basement door opening and someone heading down. The three of them tense up a little, rising to their feet and watching the entrance to the corridor with wary eyes.

It's Darla. "You can come out now," she says, with a grin. "The maniac has left the building. Also… why are you hiding in the basement?"

"…Long story," Kevin replies.

They head back up – Carlos being careful _not to look_ at anything in the central chamber – and before long they're following Darla through into the main hallway, where Naomi is waiting, hands on her hips, looking extraordinarily irritated.

"…Are we about to get a telling off?" Kevin apparently can't help asking.

"I should give you a severance package!" Naomi exclaims, rather more wildly than usual, leading Carlos to assume that the evening involved more alcohol than just pre-dinner cocktails. "What in the name of H'ygragagogoth were you _doing?_ "

Kevin looks like he's about to answer – and he looks like the answer might be quite… high-spirited – so Cecil puts a gentle hand on his chest before turning to speak instead. "We wanted to listen in," he says. "We were careful. Everything was going fine until the part where Lauren made those… _insinuations_."

Naomi folds her arms and looks down for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I see. Yes. That would make sense. And at that point…"

"…We chased Kevin down into the basement and had a little talk with him," Cecil replies, rather sheepishly. "I… OK, I sort of overreacted somewhat. I think this place is getting to me. We worked it out eventually, but we couldn't risk coming back upstairs when we didn't know for sure that the three of you hadn't moved. So we had to wait it out instead."

"I see," Naomi says again. She seems calmer, if still extremely wound. "Well. I don't believe what Lauren said is true, either. I've known Kevin a very long time and I would have noticed by now if he was still under, no matter how well he hid it. But this does bring up an equally alarming revelation: if Lauren is going to the trouble of trying to plant these ideas in my head, then she must suspect something is awry. If she had clear proof, we'd already be swamped in enforcers, but I doubt we have much more leeway before our cover is blown."

"From what Lauren said, we don't have long anyway," Kevin points out. "She said the Bloodstone would be powered up enough in two days… which means tomorrow night is our last window of opportunity to take it out."

"And there isn't going to _be_ a tomorrow night, not technically," Naomi reminds them. "We're getting a double sunrise. And whilst it should still be quiet when evening time rolls around… the light is not going to make things easier. Carlos, this plan you and Frederick came up with… will it work?"

This is the crucial question, really. Carlos nods. "Yes. Yes, we think it will. We'll have to move quickly to get the inverter built tomorrow, but – all being well – we should have it done by the evening."

"Good," Naomi replies. "Then we're set. Tomorrow night… we take that thing out."

"Did Lauren say anything else?" Kevin asks, suddenly. "After… those insinuations she made. You must have been talking for a lot longer."

"Oh, she said plenty," Naomi answers, scowling. "Most of it her usual bluster and corporate small-talk. Although… there was one other point of note. Lauren knows – _Strexcorp_ knows – that pro-revolutionary ideas are spreading within the town, even despite the influence of the Bloodstone. The enforcers have been bringing in triple the number of dissidents and they know there's plenty more that they're missing. So now, Lauren is apparently tasking certain people to reach out to these so-called _dissidents_ , to ally with them, to get close to them… and to inform on them."

"Which means we're going to have to be pretty darn careful," Darla adds. "The more people we bring in on this… the more risk there is that one of them will try to betray us."

"There must be some way we can _test_ people or… or something…" Cecil says.

"Believe me, I'm working on it," Naomi tells them. "Now… I think it's high time you all went and reassured the people upstairs that you're not _dead_. Or _worse_."

"I knew we were getting told off…" Kevin mutters.

***

Breakfast the next morning is something of an ordeal.

Steve is still cross with Cecil over their escapades the previous night, given that he _had_ thought they were dead – or worse – and that not only was the plan blown, but also that he'd have to tell Caitlin. He's also not coping well with the fact that Kirsten seems much calmer about it and, once she's given Kevin a siblingly punch to the arm, generally approving of the whole idea.

Cecil himself – other than trying to deal with his brother-in-law – is still rattled by the whole incident involving Lauren's insinuations and the ensuing confrontation down in the basement, and is going out of his way to be nice to Kevin as a result of the guilt.

Naomi looks hungover. Darla _is_ hungover but is trying to medicate it with extra bacon. Frederick is downing coffee like it's going out of fashion and Gillian is doing an excellent job of pretending that she _doesn't_ know what's wrong with the grown-ups.

Carlos is trying to occupy himself by thinking about resonance inversion, so he jumps a little when he hears his name and realises he hasn't been paying attention to anyone else.

"…Er… what were you saying?" he asks, looking sheepish.

"I was saying that you're still expecting to be ready by tonight," Naomi repeats, looking only very mildly put out. "With the plan."

"Oh, yes, right," Carlos replies. "Yes, all being well, Frederick and I should have the inverter finished by early evening."

"How does it work?" Kirsten asks.

"It tunes into the song emitted by the Bloodstone on the deepest level, magnifies it and inverts it, turning it back on the stone itself," Frederick explains. "If all goes according to plan… the concentrated effects will lead to total resonance inversion, which should shatter the stone from its core, destroying it on the spot."

"…It's as simple as that?" Steve says.

"It isn't simple at all," Carlos replies, before Cecil can leap in to defend his honour. "We have to get the resonance precisely right or _at best_ nothing will happen. At _worst_ … it could magnify the song's effects tenfold. And leaving all the other consequences aside… that would likely be enough to pull all of us under its control. Well. Maybe not Steve. Can we at least do a couple of _minor_ tests on you, just to see if we can work out why the song doesn't affect you the same way?"

"Because he's a freak of nature…" Cecil mutters.

"OK, you take that back," Steve retorts, glaring at him.

"…If the pair of you don't stop it, I _will_ get you a ring of jello," Carlos cuts in, before they can get any worse.

Cecil looks horrified. Kevin looks delighted. Steve just keeps on scowling.

"If you're all done being manly and adorable..?" Kirsten pushes.

The lot of them go quiet and become very interested in their coffee again.

"Well," says Naomi, in what is obviously meant to be a bright tone but one dulled somewhat by her lingering hangover. "Whilst Carlos and Frederick are working on this… _inverter_ … the rest of us need to start making plans for what comes next. If this works… _when_ this works… we should aim to move against Strex as rapidly as possible. Catch them whilst they're still reeling from the loss of the Bloodstone."

"Sounds like we have some recruiting to do," Kevin replies. "I can help with that. I still have… contacts."

"I'm counting on it," Naomi tells him. "Also… there's one other thing. It might be irrelevant, but just to be on the safe side… I should make you all aware that there have been reports over the last day or so about a sudden upswing in the number of deer sightings in town…"

Cecil and Kevin both look alarmed, whereas everyone else just looks perplexed.

"Is that bad?" Steve asks.

"Oh, it could be," Cecil replies, for once holding back on the snark.

"It most likely is," Kevin adds. "Something about Strexcorp's _less_ savoury activities seems to attract deer rather significantly. Especially… you know, the _special_ ones."

"The _special_ ones?" Cecil repeats.

Kevin nods. "Yes. A little while back, Strex… well, they never fully admitted what was going on, but they tried something involving a whole load of deer. It didn't end well. Quite a few people ended up getting turned _into_ deer too, and then there was the whole business with the time travel, and… well. We'd be wise to avoid any if we see them."

"Agreed," Carlos says. "If nothing else, time travel is impossible. So if they've broken physics… oh, it's best not to think about it…"

It really is. Though that won't stop him.

***

By the time Carlos and Frederick emerge from their temporary lab, late that afternoon, they're both exhausted. They've worked non-stop – skipping lunch and even coffee, which causes Cecil no end of alarm – and, for a while, Carlos isn't sure if it will be enough.

But it is. They stagger out in search of the others, collapsing on couches in the living room.

"Is it done?" Cecil asks, looking concerned.

"Yes," Carlos replies. "Yes. It's done. We're good to go."

Is this it? Is this really it?

He can only hope. They can _all_ only hope.

And at the back of Carlos' mind… the roaring, broken song is almost deafening.

***

The first sunset of the day collides somewhat spectacularly – and science-defyingly – with the second sunrise. Frederick watches it in rapt interest, having never seen it happen before, whereas Carlos flat-out refuses to watch for more than a moment on the grounds that it _does_ defy science, and also because he saw this happen a few times back when he lived here, and it… provokes some memories he'd rather not engage with right now. And, quite frankly, there's something unsettling about seeing the sun sink slowly beneath the horizon right next to itself, as it re-emerges from the same horizon to begin a wholly unnatural west-to-east trip back across the sky.

 _Very_ unsettling.

And so the sun is beating down as the group going to the Bloodstone make their final preparations. Steve once more opts to stay back with Kirsten and Gillian, and no one argues because they all understand why he's doing it. Naomi and Darla both go this time, as – of course – do Carlos and Frederick, with their resonance inverter in hand.

Cecil tries to talk Kevin out of joining them, but Kevin insists, saying that – once the Bloodstone is destroyed – he'll be fine, and they might well need his help. After all, if they cause something of that size to explode… people are going to notice. And Cecil can't quite argue with this, although he says he'll be keeping a _very_ close watch on Kevin until the mission is complete.

Carlos can only trust that this will be enough. But deep down… he can't help thinking that something about the plan is all wrong. All wrong. He just has to hope it's only his nerves talking.

***

The centre of town is quiet when they make it to the plaza where the Bloodstone stands. The sun hangs overhead, achingly hot and threatening, and it's as though the very air itself knows that the whole state of affairs is unnatural.

The plaza seems so much worse in the light. The shadows may be gone, but in their place the blood is _very_ obvious. It glitters red in the glare of the sun, and the glow of the stone itself, making the whole area seem like a scene from a nightmare.

It _is_ a scene from a nightmare. It's only now he looks at it like this that Carlos remembers the form so many of his nightmares used to take when he first moved to Desert Bluffs: a square drenched in blood, and a stone that calls you in and rips you apart.

He can hear it no matter how hard he tries to push it away, so strong and so insistent that it makes his whole head ache. Maybe it's just because the stone has been supercharged over the last few days… or maybe it knows it's in danger. Maybe… it's trying to fight back.

Carlos shivers, despite the heat.

"You should take this," Kevin says to Cecil, handing over his knife. "Just in case."

"We'll watch the area," Naomi tells them, as they all climb out of the van. "Carlos, Frederick, it's time to work your magic."

"This isn't magic," Carlos replies. "This is _science_."

They have to get really close to the Bloodstone; far closer than they went two nights ago. With every step across that blood-soaked plaza, Carlos feels as though he's walking through fire; a fire that sweeps through him, making his whole body hurt, making his mind recoil from what's to come.

He knows it for sure, now. The stone is fighting back. And if they aren't quick, it's going to win.

"We need to work fast," he says to Frederick, as they start setting up the two resonators either side of the Bloodstone: a pair of devices that _look_ a lot like camera tripods but are in fact _very_ scientific.

"No need to tell me twice," Frederick manages. "This is like having all the migraines in the world at once."

They're so close to the Bloodstone now, and Carlos can practically see his own reflection in its polished facets… but it isn't him. Not really. Not quite.

Not covered in so much blood.

He looks away, almost expecting to hear his name whispered amidst the howling cacophony in his head… but there's nothing. Nothing but heat, and light, and the constant thump of his heart.

He regularly glances over at Kevin and Cecil, who stand on the edge of the square. Cecil makes sure that Kevin doesn't look at the Bloodstone for any length of time, keeping a hand on him, keeping him grounded. So far it seems to be working… and that really is the only saving grace here.

All of a sudden, just as Carlos is about to turn and announce that they may be good to go… Naomi's cellphone rings.

Everyone stops and stares. She pulls it out and takes the call.

"…Hello? Oh, Lawrence, hi. Yes. Yes, that's right, we're… really? Where are you..?"

It's then that Carlos hears Lawrence answer, not on speakerphone but in the real world.

"…I'm right here," the man says, walking out into the open on the far side of the plaza, phone still held to his ear. He lowers it once they've all seen him, pacing slowly over to Naomi whilst everyone watches in sudden surprise.

Something is wrong. Carlos knows it now. Something is so terribly, terribly wrong.

"Lawrence?" Naomi says, lowering her own phone too and staring at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, see, dear, that's the thing," Lawrence replies. "I'm following orders."

"Whose orders?" Naomi asks, and it's only now that Carlos processes the genuine hint of fear in her voice. _Fear?_ He's never heard Naomi sound afraid. He's heard plenty of other emotions, good and bad alike. But never fear.

But he feels it too. He feels it too, and it magnifies a hundredfold as Lawrence's question is answered, not by him, but by someone else.

" _My_ orders," comes another voice.

Carlos is struck by a fresh wave of terror, because the speaker… is Lauren Mallard.

He sees her now, moving towards her sister from around the side of one of the far buildings, walking with a line of armed enforcers at her back. And they, like Lauren herself, are covered in blood, all looking more terrifying than Carlos can quite process at this point.

Kevin reacts at once, seizing his knife back from Cecil so fast that Carlos can't help wondering if handing it over in the first place had actually been of any use. But right now the man is clearly still on their side, made plain by the way he steps in front of Cecil, blade brandished at his former employer.

" _You_ ," Naomi hisses, drawing her own weapon and advancing on her sister. "I should cut you down where you stand!"

Lauren holds out her hands. She may be covered in blood, but she isn't holding a blade and – though there's one at her back – she makes no attempt to draw it. "Feel free to try, dear sister," she replies, so very calmly. "There will be consequences, however."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Naomi retorts.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Lauren counters, and she raises one hand higher, snapping her fingers.

At once, a whole swarm of enforcers erupt from all sides of the plaza, from where they've been lurking at the edges of the surrounding buildings. Two of them seize hold of Darla before she can react, holding her firmly and one pressing a knife to her throat.

"You hurt my wife and I will do things to you that would have made my _father_ blanch!" Naomi exclaims, rounding on the enforcers. "Let her go right this instant, or we'll see how useful you are to Strexcorp when you've gone _completely insane!_ "

Weapon re-sheathed, she holds out her arms, palms starting to glow, and Carlos realises that the woman is about to invoke something demonic and terrifying and… well. Probably helpful in the long run, although right now he's too terrified to engage with it.

Lauren merely holds up a hand. "You even _start_ summoning that demented little _gremlin_ of yours and you _will_ be watching your wife bleed out before you've chanted a single verse. Now put your hands down, Naomi, or I'll be forced to provide you with… motivation."

" _I'm going to rip you apart if you hurt her,_ " Naomi hisses. "Actually, I'm going to do it regardless, but it will be _worse_ if–"

"Are you done?" Lauren interrupts. "We can stand here posturing for hours, or we can get to the part where I make it plain to you just how _rumbled_ you are. Strexcorp's _number two_ leading a _resistance cell_ right in the heart of Desert Bluffs? Did you think I wouldn't _notice?_ "

"Actually, yes," Kevin cuts in, still standing in front of Cecil with his knife pointed in Lauren's direction. "And you didn't, did you? Not to begin with. Not until _Lawrence_ betrayed us." He turns, weapon now pointed at the man they'd all thought was their ally. "How _could_ you?" he asks, sounding quite genuinely rattled. "I thought we were _friends_ , Lawrence."

"So did I!" Lawrence exclaims. "We were! And then you went off to Night Vale – which is fine, it was part of the plan – only once you got there you went _native_ and betrayed _us_. And you didn't care who you had to kill to help your new friends, did you? You just cut down whoever was in your way."

Kevin goes quiet for a moment, and Carlos can tell that Lawrence has hit a nerve. "…You're talking about Declan, aren't you?"

"Smiling God, yes, I am talking about Declan!" Lawrence exclaims. "He was my _friend_ , Kevin, and he was so darned excited when he got sent out to lead his own enforcer team over in Night Vale. _So_ excited. And the last I heard from him… he was going to talk to you about something suspicious he thought he'd picked up on. And then _nothing_. And _now_ I learn that the reason for that is that you spent half your time in Night Vale following your double and your then-ex around like a lovesick puppy, and the other half _murdering_ loyal Strexcorp employees and hiding the bodies so well that they were never even found!"

"…I had no choice," Kevin says, softly. "I had to make sure no one tracked down the fledgling resistance in Night Vale. Had to… had to keep them safe. So… yes. I killed people. I did what I had to do."

"And so did I," Lawrence replies, coldly. "When I realised what you and your Night Valean friends were doing in _my_ town… I did what any _loyal_ employee would do. I went straight to my leader and told her everything."

"And she was pleased," Lauren cuts in, in a sickly-sweet tone. "She was _very_ pleased. Lawrence has kept me informed about all your little activities. All your little _schemes._ And then, tonight, he led me and my personal detachment of enforcers to the place where your other friend is hiding. Oh dear, oh dear. James Paulson – the farmer, you know? – really shouldn't have trusted anyone with that particular secret. But he did, and earlier… we paid him a visit. It's a great shame. He grew such _excellent_ oranges…"

"You monster!" Cecil exclaims. "You killed him?"

"Cecil, Cecil, I didn't just _kill_ him," Lauren replies. "I showed him the error of his ways. And _then_ … I did to him what Kevin's demonic lackey did to _my_ father!"

This explains all the blood. Carlos tries very, _very_ hard not to think about it.

"So now we have you," Lauren goes on, calmer again. "And attempting to destroy the Bloodstone, no less. Precisely how many death sentences are you trying to get yourselves? Shame I can only kill you once! Ah well… I suppose that means I'll just have to make it good…"

The edge to her voice makes Carlos' blood go cold, and he knows now that they'll have to act fast. He glances over at Frederick, trying to signal him to start powering up the inverters, knowing it will take a few minutes but hoping against hope that they can keep Lauren talking long enough. Because right now… taking the Bloodstone out is their only option.

But it's already too late. Lauren gives a nod, and a pair of enforcers suddenly launch towards Kevin, grabbing hold of him and pulling him away from Cecil, before disarming him and dragging him towards the Bloodstone. Kevin resists – even when he's looking directly at the terrible thing, he resists – but he can't break free in time, and within a moment the enforcers have slammed him against it, both palms pressed into the glowing red crystal.

Carlos' heart nearly stops. Standing where he is, a little further along, he can see the expression in Kevin's eyes: a terror that blends suddenly to calm acceptance, then through to euphoria.

"No!" he hears himself cry out. "Kevin… Kevin, you have to fight it!"

"Oh, silly, you can't fight the Bloodstone," Lauren nigh-on purrs. "Isn't that right, Kevin?"

"Sure is, Lauren," Kevin replies, and it's more than clear from his tone that he's gone under again. He turns to look at her, taking his knife back from the closest enforcer – without complaint – before starting to pace closer to Lauren again.

They have to do something. They have to do something _now_. Carlos looks urgently over at Frederick, who is still on the far side of the Bloodstone, but the other scientist shakes his head and holds up three fingers.

Three more minutes? They don't _have_ three more minutes.

"My, my, this part is going to be fun!" Lauren exclaims. "You know, I'm almost tempted to see what happens if we make Cecil touch the Bloodstone as well… but I'm not sure I could cope with _two_ of them. One is enough, right, Carlos? Oh… I guess maybe you don't agree. You really have been a thorn in my side from the very start, poking about where you don't belong, investigating things that aren't for you to know… and, of course, leading astray a man who was once one of Strexcorp's _finest_. This really is all your fault. Everything could have been _wonderful_. But… no. No. You didn't want wonderful. OK, then. You can have the opposite. Kevin?"

"Yes, Lauren?"

" _Kill your double_."

" _No!_ " Carlos hears himself cry out again, even more desperately. "Kevin… don't listen to her, please don't listen to her, you can fight this, you can, I know you can…"

But he can't. He can't, and Carlos can see it in his obsidian-dark eyes, and that is perhaps the worst part of all. Throwing caution – and common sense – to the wind, he tries to race over towards them, but a number of enforcers block his way, holding him back.

"Stop!" he cries, not even thinking about his own safety as he tries to fight past the enforcers. "Don't do this! _Don't do this!_ "

Kevin advances on Cecil, who has been grabbed and held by another pair of enforcers. "Kevin," he whispers, and though there's fear in his eyes, there's far more grief. "You don't have to do this. You don't. I love you. Carlos loves you. We… we _saved_ you."

"Oh, Cecil," Kevin whispers in reply. "Don't you see? I never needed saving…"

Carlos can't look. He can't. He shuts his eyes, collapsing in on himself, mind completely overruled by horror.

He hears, though. He hears, and he knows that – for however much longer he lives – he won't be able to forget.

The enforcers just let him drop when he stops struggling, and Carlos falls to his knees, barely able to engage with what's happening. When his mind finally starts processing visual signals again… he's aware that Cecil is on the ground, and that Kevin is standing over him, knife coated in blood.

He tries to scream. Tries to speak. But he can't. He can't. The world has gone grey, and nothing will bring the colours back.

" _Perfect_ ," Lauren whispers. "Just perfect. Now, Naomi, I think it's time we did the same to that little necromancer harlot of yours…"

The added insult is clearly a mistake. Naomi screams something incoherent – or, perhaps, just not in English – arms flung out and throwing caution to the wind. She starts to chant, swirls of thick smoke spiralling up around her, and all hell breaks loose.

Several enforcers dive at her, trying to get her to stop, though the smoke seems to be corporeal and _not_ in favour of letting them get close to Naomi. At the same time, Darla throws off the enforcers holding her, drawing her knife and leaping on the closest, stabbing him in the midsection before rounding on the next, and howling at the top of her voice to the extent that Carlos would be scared by her, despite her being on his side, if he had the mental capacity to process fear right now.

Kevin, meanwhile, is advancing on _him_ , dark eyes more terrifying than Carlos can possibly comprehend. He scrambles up and starts to run, with no idea where he can go or even how far he can get with all these enforcers around.

And then he hears the voice. "Carlos!" Frederick shrieks, midway through grappling with a pair of enforcers of his own. "Carlos, it's ready! Hit the power!"

All they can do now is go through with the plan. Carlos can't think about the rest. He can't. He looks at the inverter remote that's still in his hand, understanding only that he wants that stone destroyed.

Understanding that it has already destroyed him. That his world has ended. That nothing matters now but taking that _monstrosity_ out in one last act of vengeance.

It will likely get him killed too.

But he can't engage with that either.

He hits the button, and at once the air goes electric as the inverter powers up; the two emitters either side of the Bloodstone starting to glow as they tune into that terrible, psychic song: amplifying it, magnifying it, and turning it back on its source. The light is blinding as it hits, and the song in Carlos' head intensifies so much that he's not sure how he hasn't passed out. Everyone freezes, having obviously not realised how close the plan was to fruition, shielding their eyes as the Bloodstone glows and glows, brighter than the unnatural sun overhead.

Then there's a deafening roar… and the two emitters explode, leaving the Bloodstone untouched. It reduces in brightness, seeming to pulsate more, and stubbornly continues existing.

Carlos drops to his knees in mind-obliterating anguish as the truth slowly sets in.

 _It didn't work_.

It didn't work.

…They've failed.

He can see Frederick staring over at him in obvious shock, eyes wide as he processes what's happened. And then he's hidden from view as a whole swarm of enforcers leap on him, and…

And he's dead too.

Carlos runs. It's all he can think to do. He runs off towards the far side of the square, even as there's a series of explosions behind him. He stares back, momentarily daring to hope… but it isn't the Bloodstone. Oh no. It's Naomi, surrounded by a spiralling cloud of that corporeal smoke, which is reaching tendrils out, attacking the enforcers who are trying to get close to her. Some are sent flying, whilst others seem to just dissolve on contact, and all the while, Naomi stands amidst the storm, still chanting, covered in blood, voice wracked with grief.

He can see why. Darla is down, surrounded by bodies, and slumped on top of what looks like Lawrence, who she clearly took out before she was overwhelmed. Naomi, meanwhile, is advancing slowly on Lauren, who has drawn her own knife at last, seeming entirely unperturbed – though this is most likely because there's still a whole swarm of enforcers between her and her enraged sister.

Carlos doesn't know what to do. What can he do? How is he even supposed to process any of this? Cecil is _dead_ , Frederick is _dead_ , Darla is _dead_ , and Kevin…

Oh, merciful Einstein, no. Kevin is now heading towards him again, murder in his eyes.

"Stop!" Carlos implores. "Kevin, please, fight it!"

"This was fun whilst it lasted," Kevin says. "It really was. But Strexcorp always wins, Carlos. And you should never have opposed us."

Carlos doesn't stop to argue any more. He runs. All he can do is run. All he could _ever_ do was run. And…

…That's when he sees it, there, on the edge of the plaza.

 _A deer_.

It's hard to miss. Partly because it's a deer in the centre of town, and partly because it has four antlers, three eyes, and six legs, and that really _is_ weird.

_…and then there was the whole business with the time travel…_

Time travel.

Time travel is impossible.

But then, mind-controlling crystals are impossible. Demon summoning is impossible. Towns soaked in blood are impossible.

And living without the loves of his life is impossible too.

Carlos races towards the deer, knowing that Kevin is following him. Knowing he has little more than seconds before the man catches up with him. Before all this is over. And he has no way of knowing if this could even work. No way.

But he'd give _anything_ to make it.

The deer stares over at him, watching him draw closer, seeming curious but unafraid. Its three eyes glitter in the light of the sun, and its fur seems to glow, and _this is a completely insane idea…_

"That creature won't help you," Carlos hears Kevin declare. "You can't stop us."

"Yes," Carlos retorts, hoping against hope that this is going to work. " _I can_."

He reaches out and touches the deer's neck with both hands. For a second, there's nothing, and Kevin is getting closer, and Carlos is sure that this is it…

Then the deer gives a little headtilt, and blinks… and the world goes white.

***

Reality snaps back into focus with a sudden jolt, and Carlos finds himself standing in Naomi's hallway. It's dark outside – the welcome dark of night – and… and…

Cecil and Kevin are standing next to him. Both of them. Alive. All right. The relief is so intense that Carlos is momentarily stunned by it, unable to engage with anything but the realisation that his world hasn't ended.

What's more, Naomi is standing close by, hands on her hips - looking like she's had a rough time - with Darla at her side. And it takes another moment, a moment in which he can hear Naomi speaking, her words gradually becoming more and more real, for existence to settle back into place.

"And there isn't going to _be_ a tomorrow night, not technically. We're getting a double sunrise. And whilst it should still be quiet when evening time rolls around… the light is not going to make things easier. Carlos, this plan you and Frederick came up with… will it work?"

"…No," Carlos whispers, vaguely aware that this is going to take them all by surprise. "No. It doesn't work at all."

A wave of shock and memory and realisation and… whatever the lingering effects of physics-defying time travel are supposed to feel like… hits him all at once, and he collapses. Both Cecil and Kevin react in obvious alarm, dropping down beside him.

"Carlos!" Cecil exclaims. "Carlos, are you all right?"

"No," Carlos whispers again. "I… I…"

The memories are hitting him now, as his mind finally engages with the idea that he's mostly safe: memories of that sun-baked, blood-soaked plaza. Memories of the emitters exploding whilst the Bloodstone stubbornly endured. Memories of Lauren, and Lawrence, and of Kevin, standing over Cecil…

And even though he's here now, and it's undone… the grief hits next, and Carlos throws his arms around Cecil, curling into his chest and breaking down into wracked, soundless sobs. He can feel Kevin moving to hold onto him too, and for a couple of minutes, none of them says a word. They just stay wrapped tight together, even though two of the three of them don't yet know the extent of what's happened. What's… _not_ going to happen.

Because it isn't. It _isn't_. He's travelled back to the previous night, midway through their discussion with Naomi after they came up from the basement, and he's going to stop that horrible showdown at the Bloodstone plaza from ever taking place.

"Carlos, what is it?" Cecil finally asks, pulling back just enough to get Carlos to look at him. He can barely make eye contact – with Cecil or with Kevin – though he's vaguely aware that Naomi and Darla are still standing a little way off, watching in genuine alarm.

"I… OK, this is going to sound _insane_ , but… I just travelled back in time," Carlos manages.

" _What?!_ " Cecil exclaims. " _Really?_ " Despite everything else, he looks almost awed.

Carlos nods. "Yes. Really."

"…It was a deer, wasn't it?" Naomi asks, softly. Maybe she's starting to understand faster than the rest of them, or maybe it's just because she already knows about the upswing in deer sightings.

Carlos nods again. "Yes. You heard about it today, but you weren't going to tell us until the morning. At breakfast. You tell us at breakfast… well, you did… oh, this is confusing…"

"Take your time," Naomi replies. "Just… try to focus and tell us what happened."

He doesn't want to. He doesn't want them to know. Doesn't want to inflict even the idea of those memories on anyone, especially the two men he loves.

"I… all right, but it's bad," he whispers. "I just travelled back in time from tomorrow night. We… we all went to the Bloodstone… the five of us and Frederick. He and I had built the inverter, just like we planned, and we were setting it up when… when Lawrence Lavene arrived. He _betrayed_ us. He already has. He's working for Lauren, and she knows everything."

"What?!" Naomi exclaims in obvious horror. " _Lawrence?_ But he's… he's always been so…"

"…so in favour of a revolution?" Carlos asks, quietly. "The other thing you're going to tell us at breakfast tomorrow is that Lauren is starting to get people to act like dissidents, to infiltrate our operation and report back to her. Lawrence is the first of them. He said… he said one of the people Kevin killed in Night Vale, to… to protect us… was a friend of his, and it tipped him over the edge."

Kevin looks down. "Declan," he says, understanding. "I had no choice. He was getting too close to working out the truth."

"I know," Carlos replies. "But Lawrence… he took it personally. He'd betrayed us to Lauren. She turned up too, with a whole swarm of enforcers, still high on the fact that they'd found and murdered James earlier on. And one thing led to another and… and…"

He can't say it. He can't. The memories are so raw and agonising and he'll never get those images out of his head…

"…Carlos?" Cecil prompts, voice shaking a little. Maybe he's guessed. Maybe he's just alarmed by how upset Carlos is. It's hard to say for certain.

"…We'd been making sure Kevin didn't look at the Bloodstone for more than a few seconds," Carlos replies, knowing all the emotion has dropped out of his voice, but suspecting it's safer this way. "Lauren… Lauren had two of her enforcers drag him over and make him touch it, and it… it got hold of him again. It was so powerful… the song in my head was agony… and the thing was so strong that he couldn't fight it…"

Somehow he manages to look at Cecil. "…She made him kill you," he whispers.

The shock and horror in Cecil's eyes is almost impossible to process. As he stares, apparently lost for words, Kevin gets up and paces away, and feeling him break contact is so agonising that Carlos instinctively struggles to his feet, Cecil somehow managing to find the energy to help him. They stand close together, staring over at Kevin's back.

"It wasn't your fault," Carlos whispers, desperately. "You couldn't fight it."

Kevin doesn't speak for a long moment, standing with his arms wrapped around himself, facing away from them. When he finally turns, his expression is wracked with barely-suppressed pain. "What happened then?" he asks, obviously trying for a level tone but not even coming close.

"Naomi started to summon something," Carlos wills himself to go on. "I don't know what it was, but it looked like a swarm of cloud with tendrils and…"

"…Ozhen'ipleth," Naomi interrupts, softly. "That will have been Ozhen'ipleth. My demon. She tends to manifest like that for a while before she takes full physical form."

"Well… you were… were doing that, and Darla broke free from the enforcers and started fighting them, and at some point she took down Lawrence although… then the enforcers overwhelmed her…"

"…I died too?" Darla whispers.

Carlos nods. "Yes. I didn't see it happen, but… yes."

Naomi puts an arm around her wife and pulls her in, and they're both quiet for a moment.

"Whilst all that was happening, Frederick and I were trying to get the inverter powered up," Carlos goes on. "Eventually he signalled to me that it was ready… and I set it off."

"…And it didn't work?" Cecil asks, very softly.

"No," Carlos replied. "I mean, the inverter did what it was supposed to, but… the Bloodstone resisted. It destroyed the emitters in little more than a moment. And then… then the enforcers got to Frederick, so I ran and… that's when I saw the deer. It was just… standing there. Watching. I had no other options left and… and I was moments away from being killed too, and so… I touched the deer, and seconds later… I was here again."

"So all of this… to you it only happened a few minutes ago?" Cecil now asks, looking even more horrified.

Carlos manages a nod. Cecil pulls him back in tight, looking like his heart is breaking, and Carlos lets the man hold him for a long moment before he turns to stare at Kevin.

And from the look in _his_ eyes, his mind has blue-screened. "I… I should…" he tries, attempting a sentence that rapidly goes nowhere, and physically backing off more than a little. And though he is – admittedly – slightly scared to do it, Carlos darts forward and grabs hold of Kevin before the other man can actually run for it, pulling him into a firm hug. Kevin resists for a few seconds and then relents, collapsing against him.

"You three should take some time," Naomi says, very tactfully. "I'll go and tell the others what's happened."

"Frederick needs to start working on an alternative plan," Carlos points out, not letting go of Kevin. "The inverter isn't enough. We need another option and we need it fast."

Naomi nods. "I'll tell him. Go through into the living room and just… take a few minutes."

Somehow, Carlos manages to get the other two to follow him, though it isn't an enjoyable process because they both look like their minds aren't functioning. Cecil has gone very quiet, and Kevin… Kevin won't make eye contact with him. Carlos pulls them both down onto the largest couch, wrapping his arms around Kevin again and feeling grateful when Cecil presses in behind him, holding on too.

For several minutes, none of them speaks.

"…I am so… so sorry…" Kevin whispers, finally. He sounds even worse than he did down in the basement, and Carlos feels a stab of strange guilt when he realises that, for Kevin and Cecil, that confrontation was only a couple of hours ago, and must still be raw in their minds.

"Kevin," Carlos replies, "it wasn't your fault. Lauren forced you to touch the Bloodstone again, and it… it was so powerful…"

"I know, but… I…"

"It isn't going to happen," Carlos insists, and though his voice is shaking, he can take comfort in this fact. "It is _not_ going to happen. We can stop it. We can do this differently…"

"Carlos is right," Cecil says. His voice is shaking too, but he sounds determined nonetheless. "How many times do you get a second chance like this?"

"…I know," Kevin replies, after a moment. "I know. I…" He pulls back, taking a deep breath. "We have to destroy that thing. We _have_ to."

"And we will," Carlos says. "I'm not sure how, yet, but… we will."

"And you," Cecil adds, reaching around Carlos to grip hold of Kevin's arm, "don't you dare start beating yourself up over what happened in some terrible, dark future. This changes nothing. We still love you. Right, Carlos?"

"Absolutely," Carlos agrees at once, and between them they both pull Kevin in again, falling back on the couch into a tight, tangled hug.

"I should never have brought you here," Kevin whispers, after a moment.

"You _didn't_ bring us here," Cecil reminds him. "You ran off here on your own and we followed you. Like it or not, my dear double, you're stuck with us. And even though we rescued your sister and we could all pack up and leave town now… I wouldn't."

"…I don't know what I did to deserve you," Kevin murmurs.

"A whole lot more than you needed to," Carlos replies.

They sit quietly like that for a good few minutes, not moving until they hear footsteps out in the hall. When they do, they scramble to their feet, extricating themselves from each other though staying close. A moment later, Naomi paces in, sees that they're – mostly – OK, and waves the others to follow her.

They're all here now: Darla, Steve, Frederick, Kirsten and Gillian. Their faces are set with concern – even Steve, who looks over at Carlos with the strangest sympathy in his eyes – and it's obvious that Naomi has told them not just what happened during the dinner party but also what Carlos said when he snapped back to this point in time.

If truth be told, that part is still hard to wrap his mind around, on account of time travel being impossible. But right now, he does have more immediate issues to worry about.

"We need to act fast," Naomi says, her voice deathly serious but very tactful nonetheless. "Lauren knows we're here, and what we're trying to do, and though she isn't going to move against us until tomorrow evening, the sooner we take action, the better. I have been preparing for this eventuality… I mean, I knew it had to happen sooner or later… and I have a safehouse arranged on the far side of town. Until now, no one knew about it save for Darla and me, and Lawrence certainly has no idea, so we'll be able to hide there. I'll warn James that Lawrence is going to sell him out, and arrange a meeting at a secure location so I can fill him in on what's happened and move him somewhere they won't find him. For now… all of _us_ need to go. Tonight."

And in the face of what's just happened… no one is going to argue.


	11. Demons

_Don’t get too close_  
_It's dark inside_  
_It's where my demons hide_

~ Imagine Dragons: _'Demons'_

***

The next few hours are a blur of movement and technicality. They pack up what they can and set out, crowding into the back of Naomi's van, and – eventually – they're driving through the dark streets of Desert Bluffs, heading towards somewhere that… hopefully… they'll be safe.

The place in question turns out to be another rather nice and good-sized house in the middle of a large development on the far edge of town.

"So long as the neighbours don't spot us, we'll be all right here," Naomi tells them, as they clamber out once the van is parked inside the attached garage.

Once they're in, Kirsten and Gillian quickly go off – because "It's way past your bedtime, young lady," – although Kirsten does stop to give her brother a very tight hug first.

The rest of them settle in the living room. Naomi makes everyone coffee ("Watch out for the espresso machine here, if you use it… it can get a bit high-spirited," she tells them, and Carlos decides it's best not to ask) and they all sit around drinking it in silence for a few moments.

Finally, Carlos speaks. "We need to come up with an alternative plan for the Bloodstone," he says. "And we need to do it fast. Tomorrow night is still our only chance to take it out."

"You say the inverter didn't work at all?" Frederick asks, oddly carefully.

Carlos shakes his head. "No. It wasn't a fault with the equipment. The Bloodstone was just too powerful. And we don't have long to come up with a second option." He clutches at his temples for a moment. "I just wish this psychic song would stop for five minutes so I can think. Honestly… how do people here cope with it..?"

"They don't," Kevin reminds him, softly. "They give into it. It doesn't intrude so much once you give in. Or… not in a way you'll notice, at least."

"I wish there was some way we could weaponise Steve," Frederick says, glancing over at the man. "He can't hear it."

"I can still hear the hum," Steve points out, as though vaguely concerned Frederick is going to suggest cutting his head open again. "But I guess that's got to be better than this song all of you can hear…"

"How do you cope with it?" Carlos asks, turning to Naomi. "You've lived here all your life but – unless I'm missing the point – you've _always_ resisted it."

"I can't hear it," Naomi replies, softly, which makes everyone except Darla stare at her in shock.

"…Wait, what?!" Kevin exclaims. "You can't hear it at all?"

Naomi shakes her head. "No. Neither can Lauren, or the rest of the Management Board. And neither could our father."

 _Oh_. "Is this… is it because your father and his associates… aren't from around here?" Carlos asks.

"Yes," Naomi answers. "They… we… well. Let's just say there's little point deploying a weapon you're not immune to."

"The Bloodstone was their doing?" Cecil asks.

"Oh yes," Naomi says, with an odd look in her bright blue eyes. "I… all right, the truth of the matter is that I know more about it than I've told you thus far. I haven't hidden information about it that could affect the plan, but… I know what that thing really is. I know where it came from. It was the Management Board's doing. When my father and his associates first came here… they dropped the Bloodstone on Desert Bluffs, and a second one on Night Vale, as part of their initial takeover operation. Somehow – thanks in large part to the actions of some extremely well-read young women – the people of Night Vale managed to bury the one there before it could become powerful enough to have any influence. They'd worked out that those things go dormant if kept in the dark. But, despite a rumoured attempt by some of the Night Valeans to help out, the people of Desert Bluffs… weren't so lucky."

"So," Steve begins, carefully, "that means you're…"

"…Half-human," Naomi replies, understanding what he's getting at. "And half… not."

Only Frederick is daring enough to push the matter. "And the… 'not' part..?"

Naomi puts her coffee cup down and folds her hands calmly in her lap, as if contemplating whether to reply. She's silent for a moment, and then she glances at Darla – who clearly knows all this already – before turning her attention back to Frederick. "…First Infernal Plane," she answers.

"Merciless Azatothoth!" Kevin exclaims, looking like he'd fall over if he wasn't already sitting down. "I mean… I'd suspected something along those lines, but… you're half _highborn demon?_ No _wonder_ Azzie is always so polite to you! I thought he was just trying to wind me up!"

Naomi gives a little headtilt. "Well. Now you know."

"Now we know?!" Kevin repeats. "You're seriously telling me that all those rumours are _true?!_ That Strexcorp really _is_ run by _demons?!_ "

"You sound surprised," Naomi points out, wholly unnecessarily. "They give trusted employees _summoning rights_. Heck, until you and Azatothoth sorted out your own deal, you were one of them! Where did you think they got the power to do that?"

"…Good business acumen?" Kevin replies, though it's clear everything is slotting into place in his head, as if he's been in denial about it all this time and is suddenly accepting it. "I… so… the five of them tried to take over both Desert Bluffs and Night Vale, but only pulled it off in Desert Bluffs, and then they created Strexcorp as… as what? As a way to expand their power?"

"Precisely," Naomi answers. "And to keep themselves occupied. Much as people think the Infernal Planes are a chaos-wracked bloodbath, most of them are actually highly organised, and the Management Board… they needed to recreate some of that order over here. Apparently they briefly considered going into politics, but… what's the one thing more powerful than politics?"

"Business," Kevin says, without hesitating.

Naomi nods. "Exactly."

There's an odd little silence. "Why did you never tell me any of this?" Kevin asks, finally. "We were friends for years! I was barely out of college when we met."

Naomi actually looks strangely sad now; an emotion Carlos has only ever seen in her eyes once before: when he told her about Darla's death in the dark future. "And you were a dyed-in-the-wool Strex loyalist, Kevin," Naomi points out. "I liked you, of course I did, otherwise I'd never have let you get close, but up until very recently… I worried we'd be on opposing sides when the inevitable war finally came."

Kevin stares at her for a moment. Then he stares sideways at his two boyfriends, one of whom recently told him how he murdered the other in a possible future only one day from now. And then… he puts his head in his hands and takes a deep breath, before looking up again. "How do we destroy that thing?" he asks, flatly, as if he can't quite think about the rest just yet.

"That's a darn good question," Frederick answers. "Carlos and I spent the entire day going over all our data on the Bloodstone, and the inverter seemed like the best – the only – plan we had. So if that isn't going to work… I don't know what else we can do. Except maybe find a way to weaponise Steve…"

"Hey!" Steve exclaims. "No one is cutting open my head!"

"…Wait," Carlos says, suddenly. An idea is starting to form in his mind, bit by bit, though he doesn't know yet if it will work. "The Management Board can't hear the Bloodstone. Naomi and Lauren can't hear the Bloodstone. And… Steve can't hear it properly. Only the hum. And… OK, _why_ can't the Management Board hear it?"

"Because they – we – are immune to it," Naomi answers.

"Yes, but _why?_ " Carlos pushes. "Thing is, you can go down the mystical demon-immunity line all you want, but in the end… everything has a rational, scientific answer. Even demons. It's just that usually we don't stand a chance of working it out. So, if you and the Board are immune to that thing because you have demon blood, there must be some _rational, scientific_ reason to explain it. And that reason…"

It's at this point that his mind finally engages with where his train of logic is going, seconds before the rest of the room catches up. They all stare at him for a long moment, and then, as one, they all turn to stare at Steve Carlsberg.

"…Oh no," Steve exclaims. "No. No, no, no. Don't you dare say it. Don't you dare!"

Cecil claps a hand to his mouth in what would clearly be unmitigated delight were the situation not so serious.

"I'm afraid it's the most logical explanation, Steve," Carlos insists, feeling almost guilty. "I think the reason you can't hear the full song of the Bloodstone is because you have some demon blood of your own."

"I told you not to say it!" Steve exclaims, actually flailing a little. "Now the government will send people after me and I can't go through that again!"

"Steve, we're in a safehouse in _Desert Bluffs_ ," Cecil finally manages to say. "I think the government is the least of your problems."

"The government is _never_ the least of my problems, Cecil, and stop looking so pleased!" Steve retorts. "This is all completely ridiculous."

"Actually… it makes a lot of sense," Frederick says, somehow managing to sound like the sane, sensible one in this conversation (which is quite an achievement). "We know that the Management Board, and Naomi and Lauren all don't have doubles over in Night Vale because… _whatever_ causes that little phenomenon, it doesn't seem to apply to people who… how did you put it, Carlos? _Aren't from around here_."

"But I _am_ from around here!" Steve insists. "I was born and raised in Night Vale!"

"Indeed," Frederick replies. "And Naomi was born and raised in Desert Bluffs. It isn't where you were born. It's where your _blood_ is from."

"…But… but my parents weren't _demons!_ " Steve retorts.

"Your mother was close," Cecil mutters.

Steve looks outraged. "Cecil!"

"Do you know what she said to me, the first time you took me home when we were dating?" Cecil asks, flatly, and it _must_ be bad if he's freely talking about _that_ particular time in his life.

"No," Steve snaps. "Did it have something to do with you being a ginormous narcissist of such proportion that one day you'd end up in a relationship with your own double?"

"No!" Cecil snaps back. "She said… she said my _aura_ was _weird_."

"And she wasn't wrong!" Steve replies, as if all this proves his point.

Carlos facepalms.

"Is it time for the ring of jello now?" Frederick asks, pleasantly.

"I think it might be time for the ring of fire and sticks…" Carlos murmurs. He looks up. "Could the two of you maybe stop?"

"…Sorry," Cecil concedes, looking a little guilty.

Steve, on the other hand, keeps glowering at him. "Neither of my parents were demons!"

"No, Steve, I don't think they were," Naomi interrupts, in her very best calm-sensible-leader voice. "I do, however, think it more than likely one of your grandparents or great-grandparents was."

" _What?!_ "

"…It would make sense," Carlos agrees, in what he hopes is a reasonable tone, and one that might dissuade any further argument. "You can't hear the full song of the Bloodstone, although the effect is diluted enough that you can at least hear the hum. And… you don't have a double."

"…And how does this dramatic revelation help us?" Steve says, looking like he's about to drop into a furious sulk. "So I might be a _tiny_ bit demon. So what?"

"I'm getting to that," Carlos replies. "As I said… if you look deep enough, everything has a rational, scientific answer. Naomi can't hear the Bloodstone at all. You can hear the hum but not the song. Something in your blood – in both of your blood – gives you a natural resistance to it. And if we can discern how that resistance works…"

"…we can weaponise it!" Frederick exclaims, looking delighted. "Carlos, you really _are_ a genius!"

"Don't sing my praises just yet," Carlos says. "We still need to work out if this is actually something we can use. I can see this being a long night…"

***

'Long night', it turns out, is something of an understatement.

Neither Carlos nor Frederick sleeps at all. They start out by doing some entirely non-invasive tests on Steve, who is smart enough not to argue, before starting to go through the results, bit by bit, in the hope of coming up with something they can use.

Carlos tries – in between – to persuade Cecil and Kevin to go and get some sleep. They can't help with this part, and it makes no sense to have them all exhausted out of their minds come the morning.

But they won't leave him. Deep down he's very touched by that, even if on the surface he wishes they'd be more sensible. The two of them end up sitting on a couch in the corner of the makeshift lab, watching but not interfering, and eventually they're curled up together, Kevin with his head on Cecil's lap; both drifting in and out of sleep, but never for long.

The first hints of light are starting to appear on the horizon when Frederick comes wandering in from the kitchen with two fresh cups of coffee, looking a little stunned.

"…What is it?" Carlos asks.

"…That coffee machine just tried to eat me," Frederick replies. "I mean… that's…"

"…terrifying?" Carlos suggests.

"… _awesome_ ," Frederick concludes, expression breaking into a smile.

Carlos shrugs. "Naomi did tell us to be careful about it."

What does it say that this kind of thing barely makes him blink anymore?

***

When breakfast finally rolls around, both Carlos and Frederick insist they don't have time to stop and eat. Carlos relents, however, when his two rather tired-looking boyfriends take hold of him and nigh-on march him through to the kitchen, and Frederick is left with no option but to come along as well because he can't do this part on his own, and also because the smell of cooking bacon has untapped mind-control potential that quite frankly defies description.

"Well?" Darla asks, rather eagerly, as the two scientists join the rest of them at the table. "Did you manage to come up with something?"

"Actually… yes," Carlos replies, carefully. "We didn't spot it until I happened to compare some of the readings we took at the Bloodstone with the brain scans we did of Steve. It's hard to explain exactly, but it looks like the reason he can't hear the song properly is because his mind kind of generates a mirror image of it, and the two cancel each other out. Like…" How to explain this to non-scientists? "…Like peaks for troughs and troughs for peaks." He smiles, suddenly, despite it all. "Like two mirror images that lock together." _Don't blush, don't blush, don't blush…_ "The result is that his brain tunes it out, although in Steve's case it isn't perfect, hence why he can still hear the hum. But I imagine in Naomi's case the process will be more exact, hence why she can't hear any of it at all."

"And… this helps?" Naomi asks.

Carlos smiles again, finally daring to hope. "Yes. Yes, we think it does. We think that if we can build something to replicate this process, to generate a… a _counter-song_ … we might be able to nullify the effects of the Bloodstone."

"But will that destroy it?" Kirsten asks.

Carlos nods. "We think so. We think the sudden break in its control over _everyone_ , all at once, will cause it to destabilise as it tries to reassert itself. So long as we can keep nullifying the song, no matter how intense it gets… it should be enough to make the thing blow itself apart."

Naomi leans forward now, both hands wrapped around her coffee cup. "So here comes the crucial question," she says. "Can you do it in time?"

They're all obviously wondering the same thing. Carlos and Frederick exchange a look. "Yes," Carlos answers, after a moment. "It's going to be close, but… yes. We believe we can."

"All right," Naomi says. "Anything else you need from me, you just say the word. Once we're done with breakfast, I'm going out to meet up with James. I warned him he was in danger last night, and he says he's moved to a different location, but we both agreed it's for the best if I take him to one of my other safehouses, just to be extra careful."

"Probably sensible," Cecil agrees, a little begrudgingly – incidents involving trans-dimensional oranges being hard to get over – but acceptingly. "If all goes well tonight, we'll need him for the next phase of the… oh. _Oh_."

They've had so much on their minds that no one has even thought about this part, but suddenly it seems to dawn on them all at once. "… _Oh_ ," Carlos echoes, understanding.

"…Oh, we're in trouble, aren't we?" Kevin says. "Our whole plan hinged unifying the doubles of the number-fated four… but Lawrence is one of them, and somehow I don't think he's going to be very forthcoming." His eyes darken, and when he speaks again his voice makes Carlos shiver a little, in ways he really doesn't want to be thinking about right now. "Of course, if we get hold of him, he and I could have a little talk. I can be _very_ persuasive when I want to be…"

 _Don't I know it…_ Carlos thinks, flashes of memory coming to mind: memories of the man pinning him to a wall, blade over his throat, saying…

…seriously, stop getting distracted…

" _No_ , Kevin," Cecil interjects, in his firmest tone. "Much as I don't doubt your abilities, anything involving you, an ominous room and 'five minutes alone with the suspect' is quite frankly too dark for my tastes."

 _Not if the other night is anything to go by_ , Carlos now thinks; the memories in his mind shifting from a wall to a floor, and… OK, seriously, this is what he gets for being sleep-deprived and caffeine-overloaded at the same time. He quickly becomes very interested in his latest cup of said caffeine, partly to hide the flicker in his eyes and partly so he doesn't have to watch Kevin pouting at Cecil.

"Awww, Cecil," Kevin says, looking a little put out. "And anyway, I'd take way longer than five minutes. People who do it in five minutes aren't being thorough enough. And given how vindictive I'm feeling right now, I might need _hours_ …"

Carlos starts studiously reciting the laws of thermodynamics in his head. With equations.

"Kevin, violence is not the answer here," Cecil insists.

"…You could always try bone telepathy…" Gillian cuts in, suddenly. She's usually – perhaps sensibly – quiet during these sorts of discussions, so they're all a little taken aback.

"Gillian!" Kirsten says, in full Mother Voice. "Not until you're done learning how to do it on living subjects!"

Steve puts his head in his hands. "You people are all insane. _Insane!_ "

"Says the man with _demon blood!_ " Cecil retorts.

"…If we could all focus?" Naomi says, without raising her voice.

Everyone shuts up.

"See?" Darla says, brightly, gesturing to her other half. "Now _that_ is cool."

There's an awkward pause, broken only by Darla calmly helping herself to another slice of toast. She's clearly recovered more than most of them from last night's revelations and is now firmly back in the destroying-our-enemies mindset she usually favours.

Naomi rubs a hand over her eyes. "All right. Look. One thing at a time. We take out the Bloodstone first. Once that's over… we work out what to do about Lawrence, and about the fact that this revolution plan of yours seems to have come rather seriously undone. But none of it will matter if we don't destroy the Bloodstone tonight."

And no one is going to argue with this.

***

Carlos and Frederick spend the day in the lab. Luckily, some of their initial work from the previous day – which had been focused on the original plan involving the resonance inverter – can be re-tooled to help out here, speeding things up a little. But they still don't stop all day (other than for the occasional cup of coffee, which is becoming more and more essential given how long it's been since they slept) and there are quite a few points when Carlos wonders if they're not going to be done in time.

The first sunset of the day – to be followed by that second, science-defying sunrise that Lauren has somehow arranged – is in full-swing when the two scientists finally stagger into the living room and collapse side-by-side on the couch.

"…Is this normal for them?" asks James Paulson, who's been here all afternoon - having met up with Naomi as planned - and who is due to leave for the other safehouse at any moment.

"Right now it is," Cecil replies, looking concerned. "Carlos… is it..?"

Carlos manages a nod. "It's done."

This is it. Again.

***

They start making preparations to set out: the same group as the previous night. The second sunrise is glowing through the garage windows as they load the equipment into the back of Naomi's van, preparing to leave.

Carlos feels like his mind is locking up. They're all nervous, yes, and rightly so, but he has memories of the first time they did this. He can still see every second of it in his mind, and he knows that some of it is going to look the same, when they get there. Knows that they're likely headed for another confrontation with Lauren; that the sun will still beat down and the blood still glitter in the light, just as it did when he had to watch his whole world fall apart.

They don't have long before they head out, and there are things he needs to say. Seizing his chance whilst he still can – before he loses his nerve – he grabs Cecil's shoulder as the man is heading back in from the garage, dragging him into a side room and wrapping both arms around him.

Cecil doesn't resist, holding him back just as tightly. "I love you so much," Carlos says, voice cracking. "I need you to know that. I love you so much that all the words aren't enough to say it. I haven't forgotten, you know. I haven't forgotten how wonderful you were to me in the beginning, even when I was still acting like an idiot. I haven't forgotten how kind you were, or how understanding, or how you waited a whole damn year for me to… to…"

"Carlos," Cecil whispers, in that voice that makes him feel safer and more loved than he ever has in his life. "You don't have to say all this. I know. I already know. And no matter what happened the first time you went through this night… this time is going to be different."

"I watched you die," Carlos manages, the memory flooding unbidden through his mind like poison. "I watched you die and I couldn't save you."

Cecil pulls him in very tight, hand clasping the back of his head, gently turning them both so as to push Carlos against the wall, and… wow, that really _does_ make him feel safe…

"And you came back," Cecil reminds him. "You came back to stop it happening. You came back to save me… and to save Kevin."

"I'm so scared for him," Carlos says. "The Bloodstone… it affects him so strongly. No matter how hard he fights it… it will win. We have to protect him, Cecil. We have to make sure – make _sure_ – that awful thing doesn't get hold of him again."

"If anyone can, you can," says a soft voice just off to the side.

It's Kevin, standing in the doorway, watching them. He seems almost hesitant, not moving until Cecil reaches over to pull him closer, and only then does he curl in against them both.

"…Maybe I shouldn't come with you," Kevin whispers, after a long moment. "Maybe… this would be safer for all concerned if I wasn't there."

There's some logic in this, it's true. There's a great deal, in fact; enough that Carlos has spent more time dwelling on it than he would like. But he does at least have an answer.

"No," he says. "You need to be there. You need to be there to help us destroy this thing, or on some level… you'll never be free of it."

This makes Kevin pull back in surprise, staring at him. "What do you mean?" he asks.

Carlos turns a little more, still half in Cecil's arms, so he can take Kevin's hand and pull it in against his own chest. "I mean that you, more than any of us, are the victim here," he replies, carefully. "The Bloodstone exerts control over everyone in town, but some need it more than others. And you… you said you've fought it before. Maybe more than you remember. It has to work _incredibly_ hard to control you, and I think that's because of how much you've resisted in the past."

Kevin's expression becomes hazy, and he's clearly struggling to think. "I… I remember resisting before, but… the memories feel new. Like they've only been in my head a short time, even though… they should be older…"

"They _are_ older," comes another voice from the doorway.

They all turn to see Naomi standing there, watching them with a very strange expression on her face.

"They are?" Kevin asks.

Naomi looks down for a moment, sighing a little – not in resignation, but almost as if psyching herself up to say something. And that's significant enough on its own, because you normally have to outright threaten someone she cares about to genuinely unsettle her.

Although... maybe this counts.

"This won't be easy for you to hear," Naomi starts out. "Maybe I shouldn't say it at all, but… if it was me I'd rather know the truth."

"What truth?" Kevin pushes, his voice shaking now, and that makes Carlos grip his hand tighter.

Naomi sighs again, meeting his eyes before she speaks. "You've fought the Bloodstone before, Kevin. I'd imagine the memories are still hazy at best, but, underneath everything, you're quite the expert on all of this now. In the years I've known you, you must have gone up against the Bloodstone on at least half a dozen occasions, sometimes on your own and… and sometimes with other people as well. You've realised what it is; what it does to your mind, to your _will_ … and you've resisted. And every time… Strex has made sure to pull you back under. To… _force_ you back under…"

By now, Kevin has gone pale. "I… but I don't…"

"Remember? I know," Naomi replies, softly. "That's why the process works so well. If you don't even _remember_ resisting… you'd never even notice anything was amiss."

"But… but why would Mr Hartley let me get so close to him if..?"

Naomi gives a little shrug. "He regularly had to deal with loyalty issues, and you were useful enough to be worth the effort. As far as he was concerned, so what if you needed the occasional mental nudge to knock you back in line? It was small compared to some of the things he did. And it always worked, so there was no need for Strexcorp to take… more drastic measures. Only then, they made a crucial mistake. _My father_ made a crucial mistake."

"…A mistake?" Kevin manages.

And Carlos understands. "He sent you to Night Vale. Outside the Bloodstone's sphere of influence. And within a few days…"

…you were pinning me to a wall and trying to warn me that Cecil was in danger. Amazing how much more sense that makes now. It must have been the first time he'd been able to think clearly in… in _forever_.

"Precisely," Naomi confirms, with a nod. "And even though Lauren was supposed to keep an eye on you… well. We all know what a _handful_ you can be when you get into your stride, and she was more than a little distracted with everything _else_ that was going on. And that meant you could get away with it, right up until the crucial moment."

There's an odd silence, as Kevin tries to take all this in; Carlos and Cecil both watching him in concern.

"Did you know?" he asks, finally, staring at Naomi.

She looks genuinely pained. "Yes," she answers. "Yes, I knew. And I wanted to tell you, I truly did, but… it wouldn't have made any difference. And sooner or later, my father would have realised that I was the one telling you, which would have put both of us in danger. Darla too. I… Kevin, it killed me inside having to keep the truth from you, but… there was no other way."

The worst part is, Carlos knows that Naomi has a point. More than a point. That's probably what makes it hardest for Kevin. If he'd been flat-out betrayed, he could get angry, but he hasn't. When all's said and done… he's been defended.

There's a long, difficult moment before Kevin nods. "You're right," he says, softly. "I've… had to lie to protect people, too. And it isn't easy. So… so I've fought the Bloodstone before?"

"Yes," Naomi replies. "Several times, over the years. You'd develop the ability to resist its influence and gradually start to slip, until Strex took… steps. This is the closest you've ever got, though." She smiles a little. "And that's really saying something."

Kevin smiles a little too, and he grips one of Carlos' hands, and one of Cecil's. "This time I had help," he says.

"…And this is what I meant," Carlos now chips in, realising he's bringing the conversation full-circle. "You've suffered more than any of us as a result of the Bloodstone. You need to be there when it's destroyed. You _need_ that victory."

"You do," Cecil agrees. "And you should listen to Carlos. He's very smart."

"Don't I know it…" Kevin says, with a wry look. "All right. I'll come with you. But, by Azatothoth, you need to keep an eye on me…"

"I will," Cecil promises. "Although… might it be helpful if that demon of yours was there too? He seems to be handy in a tough corner."

Carlos facepalms. "Why didn't I think of that?" he mutters.

"Why didn't _I_ think of that?" Kevin echoes. "I must be slipping." He looks at Naomi, and then at his two boyfriends. "Well, come on. Time to go save the world again."

And this – with its many unspoken questions – only drives the point home even more.

They have to destroy the Bloodstone.

They have to destroy it at all costs.


	12. Oblivion

_Under the burning sun_  
 _I take a look around_  
 _Imagine if this all came down_  
 _I'm waiting for the day to come_

~ 30 Seconds To Mars: _'Oblivion'_

***

By the time they reach the Bloodstone plaza, Desert Bluffs is quiet and still. The sun hangs overhead, unnatural and blazing, casting its impossible light over everything.

The first instant he sets eyes on the plaza again, Carlos can hardly breathe. He pauses in the doorway of the van, half in and half out, looking away until the worst of the dizziness has passed. It doesn't help with the ache in his heart, though, nor the choral roar in his head.

Wasting no time, he and Frederick hurry over to the Bloodstone and begin setting up the device they've built. Everyone is calling it the 'nullifier', so Carlos has gone with that, even if the truth of it is far more complex. There are four emitters this time, which they set up in a circle around the stone itself, trying not to look at the wretched thing any longer than necessary.

Naomi and Darla both watch the area, blades drawn, whilst Kevin – keeping himself facing away from the Bloodstone – raises his hands.

"Stand back," he says to Cecil.

And Kevin starts to chant. That encircled pentagram blazes into life on the blood-covered floor, and somehow it all feels less ominous than the Bloodstone itself. This isn't to say it isn't still ominous, however: it's hard to summon an eight-foot tall, bat-winged creature from the Fourth Infernal Plane and _not_ have it be ominous.

Nevertheless, when the creature in question finally appears – in a burst of unholy light – Carlos is almost relieved. Azatothoth stretches his wings as the light dies down, glancing around and taking in his surroundings. He still _seems_ as terrifying as always: blood-streaked skin, sweeping horns, vicious sword, the works, and he's got his wicked-looking longbow with him again this time, which makes Carlos wonder if the demon knows more than he's letting on.

He tries to hope this is a good sign, and not a very, very bad one.

The summoning complete, Azatothoth gives a quick, if surprisingly graceful bow. " _Tereta_ ," he rumbles, meeting eyes with Kevin, which actually makes the man laugh just a little, despite everything.

"…What does that mean?" Cecil asks. "I've heard him say that before. Terror-something?"

" _Tereta_ ," Kevin replies, the word sounding so beautiful as it rolls off his tongue. "It's Linear-B. Means 'master of ceremonies'. It's what Azzie calls me when he's in a good mood."

"And… what does he call you when he's in a bad mood?"

"Something I won't repeat in polite company," Kevin answers, before directing his attention to his demon. "Azzie. We need to be fast. I take it you know what _that_ is?"

Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty folds his arms. "That would be the Bloodstone, Kevin," he replies, flatly. "Why are you… wait. Wait. Are you trying to _take on_ the _Bloodstone?!_ "

"Take _out_ the Bloodstone," Kevin replies. "It's been the plan all along. And now I need your help."

"Oh no, not again," Azatothoth insists. "Once was enough, and we're _both_ lucky that Ms Naomi was there to smooth things over or I'd have been consigned to the Dread Father's eternal embrace faster than you can say 'corporate treason'."

Kevin facepalms. "OK, is there _anyone_ besides me who _doesn't_ know that I've tried to fight this thing in the past?" he murmurs.

"Most people," Azatothoth replies, wryly. "So if I'm helping you, you'd better have a bloodtight plan to pull it off."

"Well… more or less bloodtight," Kevin tells him, gesturing over to the Bloodstone without turning to look at it. "Carlos and Frederick are doing science. They'll explain it if you ask nicely, but sometimes it's best to just smile and nod because otherwise your head starts to hurt on account of how smart they are. And it will have to wait anyway, because we probably don't have long. Look… I'll come straight to the point. I need you to protect us if… _when_ … the inevitable Strexcorp presence turns up. They're going to, likely in the next few minutes. Lauren will probably be with them. And she… well. She will do everything in her power to get me to fall back under the influence of the Bloodstone. She may even succeed. So I want you to promise me something."

Azatothoth gives a remarkably serious nod. "Name it."

"Until this is over, you protect all of us, but you prioritise Cecil, Carlos and Frederick if it comes to it. And moreover… until that thing is destroyed, you stop obeying me."

Now the demon is staring, and he isn't the only one. "…What?" he rumbles.

"…Kevin…" Naomi says, warningly.

But Kevin merely holds up both hands, trying to look placatory. "No one panic," he insists, softly. "I haven't lost my mind. And I haven't finished. You stop obeying me, and you obey Cecil instead. You take his instructions as if they were mine, as if _he_ had the soul-bind, and you do _not_ do anything I tell you unless Cecil agrees as well. If that thing gets hold of me again… I don't want it getting hold of you by proxy."

This is greeted by a very odd silence. It is, to be fair, hard to have any kind of silence when you've got the song of the Bloodstone roaring away in your head, but somehow it works nonetheless. After a moment, Azatothoth nods. "Very well," he acquiesces.

Kevin nods too. "Good. Cecil… try to resist the urge to take over the world with my demon."

Somehow, Cecil manages a grin. "No promises," he says, even though he still seems mostly stunned and more than a little alarmed by having a demon – albeit temporarily – swear to do his bidding. And then, perhaps because he's thinking about it in greater depth, he looks over at Naomi. "Wouldn't it be wise to summon yours as well?"

This gets him a smile. "I could… but Ozhen'ipleth is at her most effective when she first manifests," Naomi replies. "So I tend to wait until the crucial moment."

"Plus you look hot as hell with all that cursed smoke spiralling round you," Darla adds, with a wicked grin.

"I try," Naomi answers, mirroring the expression, before attempting a more sensible face as she turns to look over at Carlos and Frederick. "How's that device of yours coming along?"

"Almost done," Carlos replies, glancing at Frederick.

"Yep," the other scientist agrees. "We're starting the power-up sequence now. It should only take a few more minutes."

At this point, they're interrupted by a sound that – though he's been expecting it – cuts Carlos to the core:

Naomi's cellphone rings.

They all stare at her. Carlos has told everyone the story about what happened the first time he went through tonight, so this is what they've been waiting for. Eyes nervous, they watch as Naomi pulls out her phone and takes the call.

"Hello? Ah, Lawrence, hi… Yes. Oh yes, of course we are. Look, you can dispense with the theatrics and just come out. We know you're here."

And there he is, on the far side of the plaza, walking into view and lowering his phone as he does. And wow, but the expression of surprise on his face is more than a little satisfying.

"You knew?" Lawrence Lavene asks, softly, as he paces closer to Naomi.

"We know everything, Lawrence," Naomi replies. "We know you've betrayed us. We know you tried to betray James, too, but we moved him before you could get to him. And… we know you didn't come here alone."

Lawrence gives her the strangest glare. "You know a lot, don't you? Well, then. We'd best skip the pleasantries."

He gives a wave… and a group appears from around the side of one of the nearby buildings, pacing closer: Lauren Mallard, flanked by a line of enforcers. They're still covered in blood – which is worrying – but they don't look quite as high as they did the first time around.

"Ah, dear sister," Lauren says, with a bright, brittle smile. "What a delight to find you here. Well. A delight, and a terrible burden. It does look rather like you're leading some sort of revolutionary cell right here in Desert Bluffs, in _clear_ violation of Strexcorp policy. Or… maybe you're just showing these known fugitives the sights?"

Naomi folds her arms. Having known all of this was going to happen seems to have been a big help, as she looks much calmer than she did the first time she had this conversation.

"Nope, you were right to begin with," she answers, levelly. "But you only found out because Lawrence told you. Oh, Lauren, you're slipping."

Lauren narrows her eyes, smile vanishing at once. "How I found out doesn't matter. _That_ I found out is what's important. Did you think I wouldn't?"

"No, we knew you would," Naomi replies. "That's why we moved our base of operations before you could find us, so you can tell all those nice enforcers you've sent to my house that no one is there, and that if they so much as leave _footprints_ on my floors, I _will_ do things to them that would make _Darla_ flinch. Or possibly ask to join in. Hard to tell sometimes! And it's also why we moved James Paulson – the farmer, you know? – to a different place before you and your honour-guard could catch up with him."

There's a very chilly silence, despite the glaring sun beating down on them all. Lauren scowls. "So you and your fellow traitors managed to stay one step ahead. So what? We've got the ringleaders of this little operation right here. We deal with you… and somehow I don't think anyone else will pose any real trouble. Not even that citrus-growing turncoat of yours. Amazing how a person's loyalty can just _change_ like that. Right, Kevin?"

She turns her attention on him all at once, which makes Carlos' blood go cold. Kevin stares back, dark eyes defiant, blade already drawn. He's standing a little in front of Cecil – just like he did the first time around – although the fact that they've now got Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty lurking behind them is a definite bonus.

"Strexcorp betrayed _me_ ," Kevin retorts, flatly. "And it didn't just betray me, it betrayed my _whole hometown_. I see the truth, now. See what you did. See what you made _me_ do."

" _Made_ you do?" Lawrence repeats, taking a step forward, eyes filled with fury. "We certainly didn't _make_ you murder at least half a dozen loyal employees and stash the bodies where they were never even found! We didn't make you lure _Declan_ off to kill him."

There's pain in Kevin's expression as he replies, even though he stands his ground. "I did what I had to do," he says. "But it was them or me. Them… or Night Vale. Them or… or the men I _love_. And yes, I am sorry about Declan, Lawrence. I am. But if I had to do it all again… I would."

"And that's why we can't let this go on, Kevin," Lauren interjects, calmly. "Sure, we'll keep you alive for now. We can use you, after all… once we've dealt with these pesky loyalty issues of yours. But when all's said and done, and Night Vale is ours… I'm afraid a severance package is going to be in order. A proper one, this time."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Cecil declares.

But Lauren only laughs. "Oh Cecil, I'm afraid by that point you'll be long dead. Much as it might be interesting to have two of you… I'm not sure I could take it for any amount of time. One is enough. Your lovely scientist, on the other hand… we might keep him. Strexcorp is always on the lookout for keen minds. Imagine what he could accomplish for us once _his_ will has been suitably… broken."

And Carlos would be flat-out _terrified_ by this implication were it not for the fact that he's somewhat distracted by the reaction it elicits from Cecil. Lauren has barely finished speaking when Cecil takes a step forward, around Kevin, glaring at Lauren with a ferocity that Carlos has never before seen in him.

"You take that back," Cecil growls. "You take that back _right now_ , Lauren. _No one_ threatens our Carlos."

Lauren folds her arms. "I will threaten who I like, Cecil. It makes no difference. In a moment my enforcers will drag Kevin to the Bloodstone, and he'll quickly remember where his loyalties ought to be. Then I will have him kill you, right here, in front of your precious scientist. And _then?_ Seeing as Kevin has so thoughtfully summoned his demon to this little get-together – the same demon who _murdered **my**_ father – I'll have him set the wretched creature on Naomi and her warped little witch of a wife. And maybe on that other scientist you've brought – yes, I can see you hiding behind the Bloodstone, don't worry, we won't forget about you! – before I see justice done for my father's killing. And _then?_ Then it will be only a matter of days before your precious Night Vale is ours again."

"Do you work these monologues out in advance?" Cecil retorts, fearlessly. "Or do you just make them up on the fly?"

" _Must_ you be so insulting?" Lauren throws back.

"Actually, I'm just buying time," Cecil replies. "Carlos?"

"Two minutes!" Carlos calls back, looking at the remote for the nullifier. If they're tipping their hand, may as well do it with some style.

Lauren doesn't look impressed. "We can take you out in two minutes." She raises a hand, snapping her fingers… and a swarm of enforcers erupt from where they've been lurking, all around the square.

Ah yes. This part. Carlos has not been looking forward to this part.

Two of the enforcers grab hold of Kevin, disarming him and pulling him away from Cecil. But before they can drag him over to the Bloodstone, they're interrupted as Cecil takes another step forward, staring Lauren down.

"Azatothoth?" he says, somehow managing to keep his voice amazingly level.

"Yes?" the demon rumbles, calmly.

"Whose instructions are you following right now?"

"Yours."

"Not Kevin's?"

"Nope."

"So if he were to fall under the influence of the Bloodstone again, and tell you to hurt any of us, you wouldn't do it?"

"Nope. Like I said, I'm doing what you tell me right now."

Cecil stares at Lauren, folds his arms, and _smiles_. And were they not all in mortal peril beyond what Carlos' mind can quite process, he knows he'd be _catastrophically_ turned on by that.

Lauren's expression goes suddenly worried.

"Azatothoth?" Cecil says again.

"Yes?"

"Please encourage those enforcers to take their hands off my double and give him back his knife."

The demon smiles. " _Gladly_ ," he replies.

And in one smooth motion, Azatothoth draws his longbow and nocks an arrow, pointing it at the enforcer on Kevin's right and loosing it before the doomed man even has a chance to speak.

It is not a pleasant weapon. It is, however, a very _decisive_ one. The enforcer nigh-on explodes as the arrow hits him, by which point both Kevin and the other enforcer have already dived for the floor. There's a very short scuffle, which ends when Kevin manages to take back his knife and drive it squarely into the second enforcer's chest.

Silence descends. Lauren is clearly fuming. Naomi, on the other hand, looks like her night just got infinitely more interesting.

Kevin rises to his feet, knife in hand, a terrifying vision streaked with blood.

"Looks like you've bitten off more than you can chew, Lauren," Naomi says, holding out her arms, hands beginning to glow. " _Again_."

Lauren looks ready to leap up and down in rage. "Well, don't just stand there, _kill them!_ " she shrieks. "Kill them all!"

Chaos erupts. Darla immediately starts fighting off a whole swath of enforcers, whilst Naomi begins to chant, summoning… what did she call it? Ozhen… something? Carlos can't quite remember, but he's confident it isn't good news for the enforcers. A growing spiral of smoke surrounds Naomi, reaching out deadly-looking tendrils, and providing more than enough reason for Lauren to take a good few steps back.

"Azatothoth!" Cecil shouts, gesturing for the demon to follow him, and they hurry closer to Carlos – closer to the Bloodstone – Azatothoth knocking enforcers out of the way. Carlos vaguely processes that they must be coming to protect him, but it's hard to focus when there's eight-foot of winged, blood-streaked demon charging in your direction.

Kevin follows, taking a swipe at Lawrence as he passes but obviously also set on getting closer to Carlos. It's difficult for him, though, given that he's trying not to look at the Bloodstone for more than a few seconds at a time, and Carlos doesn't know what they're going to do if the thing manages to affect his mind again.

The song is echoing in Carlos' head; a broken, bloody, terrible roaring now, as if the stone realises it's in danger and has stopped its usual pretence. And whilst the choral melodies can be _very_ alarming if you pay attention to them for any length of time, they're _nothing_ compared to that broken roar. To the shattered and horrific truth at the heart of that psychic song.

"Carlos!" he hears Frederick shout, and he turns to look over at the other scientist, and… merciful Einstein, Frederick appears to have some sort of rudimentary _flamethrower_ in hand, which he's using to keep the enforcers back.

So _that's_ what he'd meant when he'd said he 'needed a few extra minutes' before they left. The man is a maniac.

He probably feels quite at home here.

"Carlos! It's ready! It's ready!" Frederick calls. "Hit the power!"

"Here goes nothing!" Carlos shouts back… and hits the button on the control remote.

A wave of static bursts out over the plaza as the four emitters activate, humming and whirring… and that's when Carlos feels it: a rush of unbidden shock and terror, followed by… silence.

 _Silence_.

The song in his head is gone. He can hardly process the realisation, though, because he's still staring in horror at the Bloodstone, which is glowing brighter and brighter as it tries to fight the nullifier. The deep, vicious red light from within starts to pulsate, and Carlos can hear the four emitters struggling to maintain their power levels.

It's fighting back. The wretched thing is fighting back… and it isn't shattering. But, this time, Carlos is prepared for this eventuality. He just has to make sure that…

"What are you doing?!" he hears Kevin shout in blank horror.

Carlos freezes, hand mere inches from the surface of the Bloodstone. "It's OK," he insists. "With the nullifier in full effect… it won't be able to hurt me."

 _Though if I'm wrong, rather me than you_ , he can't help thinking.

Here goes nothing…

Without waiting another moment and risking losing his nerve, Carlos touches the Bloodstone. The surface is warm, and smooth, and he can _feel_ it pulsating from within. But his mind remains intact. The song is still gone.

This might still work.

"Kevin!" he calls, knowing there's only one person who can do this. Well, no. Only one person who _should_ do this.

Azatothoth is still keeping the enforcers away from them, which means Kevin can turn to Carlos and… he looks at the Bloodstone. Really looks at it, and the shock in his eyes when he realises it isn't able to get inside his head is writ large.

"We're going to have to shatter it ourselves!" he says, pulling Kevin closer. "I worried this might happen, so I built a resonator."

He holds up the device in question: a rudimentary construction (but he didn't have time for anything more) that consists of a box of surprisingly simple electronics mounted at the head of a long metal pole with a point on the other end.

"What do you need me to do?" Kevin asks.

"…I need you to climb up on top of the Bloodstone and stab this into the top facet," Carlos explains, fully expecting the look of surprise he gets in response. "Our tests showed that is where the stone is weakest. Stab this in and it will deliver a pulse of energy at a very specific resonance… and, with the psychic song nullified, it should be enough."

"But… I can't touch it."

"You can," Carlos insists, laying his hand on the Bloodstone again. "See? You can. You have to do this, Kevin. You have to be the one to destroy this thing."

"Carlos is right!" Cecil agrees, moving closer and gripping his double's shoulder. "You have to do this."

Kevin stares at the Bloodstone for a long moment, and then he nods. "OK. OK." He re-sheathes his knife, and takes the resonator from Carlos. "I just stab it in?"

"Yes," Carlos replies. "It's fully powered."

"All right," Kevin says, nodding once. "All right."

He grabs hold of Carlos and kisses him, quick and firm, before turning and doing the same to Cecil. And then, taking a deep breath, he launches himself at the Bloodstone, scrambling up the side – with a little help from his two boyfriends – and eventually pulling himself onto it.

And there he stands, resonator in one hand, atop the Bloodstone, bathed in the blazing light of the sun whilst the malevolent rock beneath his feet tries to fight the effects of the nullifiers surrounding it.

On some twisted level that he can't quite engage with, Carlos finds himself hoping that, somehow, the Bloodstone can still hear that broken song deep inside, right until the end.

"Hey, Lauren!" Kevin calls out.

Everyone falls silent, staring up at him in shock – but none more than the flat horror that registers in Lauren Mallard's eyes.

Kevin smiles. "It is everything," he declares, and brings the resonator crashing down against the surface of the Bloodstone.

There's a sound like a pane of glass cracking, a blaze of light, and then the whole world goes red.

***

Reality reasserts. There's a ringing in Carlos' head, harsh and insistent, although it's nothing compared to the way the song of the Bloodstone sounded. That song… is still gone – as is the hum that preceded it – and the relief is overwhelming, even despite the subsiding tinnitus.

Carlos manages to pull himself into a sitting position, rubbing a hand over his head and staring blearily at the scene of devastation he finds himself in, not quite daring to believe what his eyes are telling him.

The Bloodstone is gone, though in its place is a cascade of red crystal shards, strewn across the plaza. Lying amidst them are quite a number of dead enforcers, though - from the looks of them - most were dead before the Bloodstone exploded. Everyone else has been flung to the ground as well, and it's now that they all start trying to stand, blinking around in what looks like vague delirium.

Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty – the only one _not_ flung to the ground – uncurls from where he's been deliberately sheltering somebody. Said person turns out to be Cecil, looking a little dazed but otherwise unhurt, and Carlos scrambles up and runs over to him at once, throwing both arms around him.

"Are you all right?" Cecil asks.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Carlos replies. "Where's Kevin?"

It only takes them a moment to find him; scrambling through the densest heaps of crystal shards to reach the very centre. Kevin is lying on the ground, intact but covered in cuts, and still unconscious. Carlos drops down beside him, checking for a pulse, and only relaxing a little when he finds one, even though it's strong. He grips Kevin's hand, even as Cecil kneels on his double's other side and does the same.

In the background, Carlos is vaguely aware of movement, and distant voices, and what sounds a lot like Azatothoth growling at someone. But he barely processes any of it; too focused on the man on the ground.

All of a sudden, Kevin's eyes shoot open, and he sits upright at once, calling out something that sounds like " _Toto pasi_ " before promptly looking as though he regrets the sudden movement. Carlos and Cecil both keep hold of him, staying at his side.

"Oh _wow_ , that hurts," Kevin murmurs. "Guess that's what I get for… I… wait… did I..?"

He stares around, clearly not quite believing the information his eyes are giving him, and when he speaks again, his voice is actually shaking. "…I still can't hear the song… not even a little… I… did we do it? Did we really… _destroy the Bloodstone?_ "

Carlos manages a smile, as the reality of it starts to set in. "Yes," he says, softly. "We did."

They did it. They did it, and now… that terrible, other version of this night will never happen. Something makes Carlos look off to the far end of the plaza… and he sees it, just for a moment: that tall, six-legged deer, staring over at him. It gives a tilt of the head and then turns, slipping out of sight.

"Oh good, you're alive," Frederick murmurs, extricating himself from a pile of shattered crystal and blinking blearily over at them. He looks around for a moment, then breaks into a grin. "And wow, that actually worked! That is _easily_ the strongest mystical rock I've _ever_ taken on. I'm going to have to write a paper!"

The man's alarming responses aside, Carlos is just glad the other scientist is all right.

"This is _not_ over!" they suddenly hear Lauren shriek, from lower down the square. Cecil and Carlos hastily help Kevin to his feet, holding the man between them as he's still a little unsteady, and as they do they can all see what's going on.

Lauren and Naomi are facing off, though they're keeping a good distance apart. Darla is at Naomi's side, whilst Lawrence is close to Lauren, and there is a lot of glaring going on. A few enforcers appear to have survived, albeit reduced in number as Azatothoth seems to have been keeping himself amused by waiting for them to get up before smacking them on the head with the pommel of his sword. But a handful of them have gotten out of his reach and are lurking close to Lauren in the hope this will protect them.

"You can _bet_ it isn't over!" Naomi retorts. The storm of demon-smoke that had been surrounding her before is gone, but now… now there's some sort of _creature_ – about the size of a small cat – sitting on her shoulder. It looks a little like a cross between a lizard and a gremlin, though is quite clearly neither, and judging by the soft hissing noises it keeps making, it isn't impressed.

"There aren't _words_ for how much trouble you're in!" Lauren now exclaims. She looks and sounds like she's having a great deal of difficulty accepting what's just happened. "You _destroyed_ the _Bloodstone?!_ This is… this is _unheard of!_ Do you realise what effects this will have?"

"Damn right we do," Naomi replies. "It will change _everything_."

"This could provoke _massive_ civil unrest!" Lauren says. "We'll have to invoke _special privileges_ , and you _know_ how serious that is."

"Yep, well, you have fun with that, you deranged maniac," Darla hisses. "'Cause we're not done with you and the orange triangle brigade just yet!"

Lauren looks like – despite her usual hesitancy when it comes to things getting physical – she's going to lunge at Darla at that. She takes a step forward, but as she does the creature on Naomi's shoulder hisses again, and Lauren backs down.

" _Charming_ ," she says, instead, before glancing at Lawrence, and at the three surviving enforcers who are lurking on her other side, as far away from Azatothoth as they can get. "Well. I think perhaps we should be going. I have the full might of the hyper-powerful corporation at my fingertips to mobilise, and some _dangerous_ rebels to start crushing. Oh, and Naomi? You're so very fired."

" _Good_ ," Naomi hisses back.

They glare some more and then – perhaps wisely, given the looks they're getting – Lauren and her remaining entourage make a run for it.

Naomi watches them go, a very conflicted expression on her face, before she takes a deep breath and turns, surveying the wreckage of the Bloodstone. "You did it," she says. "You actually did it. I've got to hand it to you, I'm impressed. Is everyone all right?"

"Surprisingly, yes," Kevin replies, even though he still looks more than a little unsteady. "I've never been on top of a giant cursed crystal when it exploded before. That's a new one for me." He looks at Carlos. "Did you know it wasn't going to kill me when it blew up?"

"I'd done predictions on the explosion pattern," Carlos replies. "Not as many as I would have liked, but enough to be reasonably confident. I wouldn't have sent you up there otherwise."

I'd have gone myself.

"We should get moving," Naomi now says. "I imagine fresh droves of enforcers will be dropping on the place before long, and I'd rather not be here when they arrive."

"Seconded," Darla agrees. "We should head back to the safehouse, 'cause tomorrow… this gets _interesting_."

"This is more than interesting enough already," Carlos says. "In fact, I would appreciate it being _less_ interesting."

"Somehow I don't think you're going to get that wish," Cecil points out, a little wryly. "But hey… at least that _song_ is gone now…"

"Yeah…" Kevin breathes. "It's… it's so weird. So… _quiet_ , I… I don't think I've ever…"

He pauses, and something makes them all do the same, just for a moment. And as they do, Carlos can hear it too… or, technically, _not_ hear it.

"…is that… _silence_..?" Kevin whispers.

"Yes," Carlos replies, and then it dawns on him. "You've never _not_ heard the Bloodstone, have you?"

Kevin shakes his head. "No. Even when I was in Night Vale, it was much more distant, but… it was still there."

"It's _seriously_ weird," Darla agrees. She looks at Naomi. "This is what the inside of your head is like _all_ the time?"

Naomi nods. It's hard to know what to say to any of this. Hard to know what it must be like to never have heard true silence before.

The moment is interrupted as the creature on Naomi's shoulder makes a little murmuring sound and curls up more against the side of her neck, tail swishing down her back. And now Carlos has no choice but to ask, "…OK, you're going to have to tell us now… what is that on your shoulder?"

This makes Naomi smile a little, and reach to pet the lizard-gremlin-thing on its head. "This is Ozhen'ipleth," she answers, calmly. "She's my demon."

"I… thought she was a giant smoke monster..?" Carlos manages.

"Sometimes she is," Naomi replies. "Usually, to start off with. But when she's not active, she looks like this. She can still make people go insane, though. Or cease to exist. She's _very_ helpful like that…"

She pets the creature again, and it makes what is clearly meant to be a purring sound before disappearing in a little swirl of smoke.

"Well, come on, we should get moving," Naomi says, after moment, more businesslike again. She looks up at Azatothoth, who has been lurking nearby throughout all this. "Nice work, you," she says.

The demon gives her a very polite nod. "Ms Naomi," he says, acknowledging the compliment.

"How come you're never that polite to me?" Kevin asks, with a slight pout. "I mean, I realise neither of my parents was from the First Infernal Plane, but even so…"

"Ah, you know about that now, do you?" Azatothoth rumbles, looking from Kevin to Naomi and then back again. "And anyway, I am _frequently_ polite to you. And I didn't pull _any_ of your limbs off that time you summoned me without using the soul-bind."

"And I suppose you want points for that?"

"Absolutely I do. Took a lot of self-restraint."

"…Azatothoth?"

"Hmm?"

"You can do the disappearing thing now."

The demon folds his arms. "I thought I was only supposed to obey your double?"

Kevin actually facepalms. "Until the Bloodstone was destroyed! It's gone now, so you have to behave yourself again!"

This only makes Azatothoth grin at him. "As you wish. See you later, Kev…"

And he disappears in a burst of infernal light.

"I have told you before not to call me that!" Kevin shouts after him.

In the distance, they can suddenly hear helicopters.

"We should do that retreating thing now," Darla points out.

And this time, no one argues.

And in their wake, they leave it: a sun-baked, blood-streaked plaza, strewn with crystal shards that glitter only in reflected light and no longer in their own; a power that has held the town in its grip for decades and now lies shattered.

Naomi is right. This changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Linear-B translation notes:
> 
> "Toto pasi" - toto = 'this', pasi = 'all' / 'everyone and everything', therefore the closest I could get to "it is everything"


	13. Carry Me Home

_Tonight_  
 _We are young_  
 _So let's set the world on fire_  
 _We can burn brighter than the sun_  
 _So if by the time the bar closes_  
 _And you feel like falling down_  
 _I'll carry you home tonight_

Fun.: ~ _'We Are Young'_

***

When they make it back to the safehouse and step through the door from the garage into the hallway beyond, Steve is waiting for them.

"You did it," he says, still sounding stunned. "I can't hear the hum anymore, and Kirsten and Gillian can't hear the song. You… you _did_ it."

"Try not to sound so surprised, Steve," Cecil replies. "Of course we did it. Carlos and Frederick are _brilliant_ scientists."

"We should celebrate," Naomi cuts across, before the brothers-in-law can degenerate into another of their verbal sparring matches. "We've all been on edge for days, and this is an amazing victory. Certainly one I never dared to hope I'd see… not until I got you lot involved, at least."

They head on through to the living room. As soon as Kevin steps in, Kirsten leaps up and hugs him, holding on for a long time.

"Thank the Smiling God," she whispers. "I was so worried. Did it… I mean, did you..?"

"It didn't get hold of me again," Kevin replies, pulling back but gripping his sister's hands tight. "And now it never will."

He looks over at Gillian, who is sitting on one of the couches with her phone, trying to do the whole withdrawn-teenager thing but clearly having to work hard to hide how relieved she really is. "And how's my favourite niece?"

"I'm your only niece."

"Doesn't mean you automatically get to be my favourite!"

This makes Gillian smile. "…I'm good," she replies. "Well done on, you know… not being dead. Does this mean there's going to be a revolution, now? Like in Night Vale?"

"Yes," Kevin tells her.

"Will there be angels this time?"

"Uh… angels aren't real…" Cecil tries to point out.

"Sure they are!" Gillian replies. "There's this one angel who comes to talk to me sometimes. She says her name is Erika."

This makes everyone stare at her.

"…You're being visited by an _angel?!_ " Kirsten exclaims.

"Uh-huh," Gillian answers, calmly. "For a few months now."

"And… what does this angel say?" Kirsten asks.

Gillian shrugs. "Lots of stuff. Next time she appears, I'll get her to come say hi if you like."

"That… might be a good idea," Cecil interjects, very carefully. "Much as angels aren't real… the last time we met one, they did help us escape a reality-defying prison."

"OK then," Gillian agrees. "She's very friendly. I'm sure you'll like her."

"…For now, I think it's past your bedtime," Kirsten says, because it's hard to know how to follow up a conversation like this.

Gillian pouts. "Awwww, Mom," she replies, but doesn't argue. She does, however, stop to give Kevin a quick hug before she disappears off upstairs.

When she's gone, Kirsten looks at Naomi. "Should I be worried about that?"

"I don't think so," Naomi replies. "But if your daughter is being visited by an angel… it might help to know why. For now, though, I wouldn't worry. All that Strex propaganda about them isn't true. They're actually pretty decent."

Coming from a woman who is technically half-demon, Carlos supposes this is quite an endorsement.

At this point, Darla comes bursting in from the kitchen with a bottle in each hand. Kirsten grins. "Aha. Now _that_ sounds like a good idea…"

***

It's about an hour later. They're all still in the living room, though they've gone from sitting on the couches to something a lot closer to sprawling.

There have been some drinks. Several, in fact, and the truth of the matter is that Carlos hasn't felt so mellow in days. Certainly not since all this started. Having destroyed the Bloodstone and _not_ had to watch people he cares about _die_ is a very large part of this, although the alcohol may be helping as well.

Right now, Naomi is sitting on one couch with Darla curled up beside her, and they're sharing a bottle of something pink. Carlos isn't at all sure what it is, but he's confident that a few chemical tests would help identify it. He tries saying as much at one point, but Darla just cuddles the bottle tighter to herself and invites him to come and get it, and – sensibly – he declines.

Steve and Frederick are on another couch, thankfully _not_ curled up, and Kirsten is on the armchair next to them, alternating between sharing their bottle and – occasionally – the one Darla is guarding.

Carlos himself is lying with his head on Cecil's lap – which means he has to keep sitting up to drink, but it's too nice not to keep lying down again – whilst Kevin is lying next to them, currently upside down with his legs up the back of the couch and his head hanging over the side. How he hasn't passed out is hard to say, although he too has to keep moving to drink, so maybe that explains it.

"You know," Carlos points out, thoughtfully, "we should probably have done the sensible planning thing _before_ we started on the non-sensible celebrating thing."

"Yeah," Kevin agrees. "But you're _so_ bad at revolutions. If you got any worse, you'd have to start expecting the enforcers to fall on their own knives."

"Would that work?" Cecil asks, apparently not having noticed the – admittedly accurate – quip about their lack of revolutionary prowess. "I mean… it would save time if we could just get them to do that. Lot of blood, though…"

"…Yeah…" Kevin murmurs again, rather dreamily, which makes Cecil bat at him.

"Maniac," Cecil says, far too warmly.

"You're flirting with my brother," Kirsten points out.

"He does that quite often," Carlos replies, matter-of-factly. "It's _really_ hot."

…OK, looks like the alcohol is starting to break down the outside-thoughts/inside-thoughts barrier. This may not end well.

"…What won't end well?" Steve asks, suddenly, and it's only now that Carlos realises he's just said all of that out loud.

"The alcohol-thing," Carlos replies, as if he _meant_ to say it all. "Still. Can't be as bad as my first New Year's after I moved to Night Vale…"

Frederick starts to giggle, which is alarming in its own right, and more than a little telling as well. Kevin bounces up remarkably fast, with a very hopeful grin on his face, looking over at the other scientist. "Oooh, there's a story!" he says. "Now you have to tell us."

"Nah-ah," Frederick insists, shaking his head. "We made a pact. We don't talk about New Year's. Except the tequila thing. We can talk about that part."

"Or we could if we remembered it," Carlos groans, putting a hand over his eyes. It had certainly been an… interesting night. "My memories go hazy around about the part where Toby jumped up on that table and started trying to give a lecture on Newtonian mechanics…"

Frederick giggles again. "That was so funny. He was remarkably coherent for a man who had done _that_ many tequila slammers. I think he and Vincent were racing at one point…"

Cecil stares. "We're seriously talking about the same people here? Toby and Vincent? The nervous one and the one who spends a lot of time insisting that all of reality as we know it is just a dream state?"

"Yep, that's them," Carlos replies. "We scientists can be a little… uninhibited when we consume intoxicants."

"Don't I know it…" Kevin breathes, wistfully, at which part Carlos starts willing himself not to blush.

"…Oh, there's a story there too!" Steve exclaims.

"Yes, but I'm not telling it here," Carlos replies, firmly. He does, however, look almost nervously up at Cecil, because the story in question… well. It's from before they met. He grips Cecil's hand. "I'll tell you later, though," he promises.

"So go on, then," Steve says, now turning to Frederick – and is it Carlos' imagination, or is Steve deliberately (and, indeed, considerately) changing the subject to move it back to something safer? – and poking him in the arm. "Tell us more about this New Year's incident of yours."

"I can't, remember?" Frederick insists. "Because of the pact! Needless to say… needless to say they all overreacted and it didn't eat anyone, no matter what Toby said in his statement to the Secret Police." He takes a long mouthful of his current drink. "And I told them I was sorry."

"It didn't involve the death ray, did it?" Steve pushes.

"Nope," Frederick replies, calmly. "I hadn't invented it at that point. Not 'til the following summer."

"You people make me feel so normal…" Darla murmurs.

"…I'm not sure whether to be flattered by that…" Cecil replies.

Before Darla can respond, Steve waves the now-empty bottle he's been sharing with Frederick. "'s all gone," he points out, intelligently.

"There's more in the kitchen," Naomi replies, with a grin. "Do help yourself."

Steve clambers up and staggers off as directed. "Watch out for the Illuminati!" Cecil calls after him.

For once, Steve does not deign to reply.

"You two never stop, do you?" Naomi asks, once Steve is gone. "I mean, I realise he's your brother-in-law and I _know_ how it is with family, really I do, but… am I missing something?"

Kevin bounces up again. The way he can just do that is both alarming and arousing in equal measure. "Oh, oh, oh, you don't know, do you?" he replies.

"Kevin!" Cecil interjects, warningly, but Kevin is on a roll and – having survived the events of the alarmingly sunny night – clearly feeling even more daring than usual.

"Know what?" Naomi asks, actually leaning forward.

"Steve and Cecil," Kevin carries on, despite the looks he's getting from his double. "Way back, before Steve married Caitlin – Cecil's sister, Kirsten's double – he and Cecil dated."

" _No_ ," Naomi replies, looking stunned.

"Yep," Kevin confirms, with a broad, delighted smile. "They dated and then they broke up and Steve got together with Caitlin instead."

Naomi stares at Cecil. "He left you for your _sister?!_ "

"Yes," Cecil answers, somewhat wearily. "Yes, he did. Because of some stuff I said about the Freemasons. It was probably for the best, though. There was this _thing_ he used to do…"

 _"And what thing would that be, Cecil?"_ comes an inquiring voice from the doorway. An inquiring voice that sounds very much like Lauren Mallard.

Everyone jumps a mile. Kevin has his knife drawn so fast you could be forgiven for thinking he'd drunk nothing but fruit juice all night, and Naomi is on her feet with her hands held out just as rapidly.

But the only person in the doorway is Steve.

"What the..?!" Naomi starts out.

Steve laughs. _"Go on, Cecil. Tell them about the thing,"_ he pushes, though his voice is still _remarkably_ similar to Lauren's. When you really pay attention, you can hear the subtle difference, but it's shocking how accurate he can be.

Everyone relaxes. Well. Everyone except Cecil, who continues to glare at his brother-in-law as the man saunters in with a fresh bottle in his hand, sitting down with a smug little flourish.

"…Steve does _voices_ ," Cecil finally concedes, though the explanation is somewhat redundant now.

"So I hear," Naomi replies, sitting back down now she's confident that her maniac sister isn't lurking nearby. "That's… impressive."

 _"Why, thank you, Naomi,"_ Steve says, now in a scarily accurate facsimile of Cecil's voice.

"Ooooh, me next!" Darla exclaims, bouncing a little.

 _"Well, why not?"_ Steve replies, echoing her voice now. _"I could even talk about bone telepathy just to scare Cecil some more…"_

"How do you even do that, anyway?" Darla asks, looking delighted, whilst Cecil intensifies his glower.

Steve shrugs. "Mad skills," he says, in his own tone again. "And apparently I have a teeny bit of demon blood, so… who knows? But don't tell anyone. I don't want the government coming after me again."

"Why _did_ the government come after you?" Frederick asks.

"'Cause I was getting close to working out where Area 51 is."

"Steve," Cecil says, flatly, " _everyone_ knows where Area 51 is."

"Not the _real_ Area 51," Steve replies. "That other one is just a tourist attraction. I nearly tracked down the _actual_ Area 51, and I would have pinpointed it too, only the government abducted me and wiped the memories I needed, and since then I've had no more luck. In fact, I think they might have moved it again."

"You're insane, Steve," Cecil retorts.

Steve gives him a wicked stare. "And you're sitting there writing 'I love you' on your double's arm with your finger when you think no one's looking."

Cecil immediately jumps and desists, going somewhat pink, which makes Kevin pout at Steve. "Awww, I was enjoying that!" he protests.

 _"I'm sure you can think of other ways to amuse yourself,"_ Steve replies, now in a _frighteningly_ good impersonation of Kevin's voice.

This makes the man himself lie back and stare over at Steve in interest. "Like what?" he asks.

 _"Oh, I don't know… a demon-summoning, some physical violence…"_ Steve now murmurs, his voice not only still scarily like Kevin's, but also managing that sultry undertone that Kevin himself employs when he's trying to wind Carlos up.

The _last_ thing he needs is the two of them doing _that_ at each other.

"I don't think I should summon Azzie again tonight," Kevin points out, entirely unperturbed. "And the physical violence… well. Naomi would disapprove."

 _"Awwww, Kevin, I bet Cecil would like it,"_ Steve says, still in Kevin's voice.

"Cecil would not like it," Cecil interjects.

"Oh, _you_ , you so would," Kevin now insists.

Kirsten leans over to Darla. "I need more of that pink stuff," she says, a little urgently. "Or for someone to make my brother stop flirting with everyone."

Darla hands over the bottle so Kirsten can pour herself a very generous glassful of the… whatever it is. Carlos still isn't sure, partly because Darla guards it jealously, and partly because Carlos himself has settled for sharing the bottle of Armagnac that Cecil is working through.

"The only thing that makes Kevin stop flirting with people is unconsciousness," Carlos points out, before he can stop himself. "Or near-unconsciousness brought on by… I… er…"

He goes pinker than whatever is in that bottle of Darla's, and promptly tries to hide by curling against Cecil's chest. Cecil pats him on the shoulder. "Yes, that works too," he agrees, somewhat unhelpfully.

"You are all bad, bad people," Kirsten points out.

"Yep," Kevin answers, happily.

Cecil gives a wave at the room in general. "We are all _drunk_ people."

"…Well spotted," Steve says.

"Y'know what we should do?" Carlos interjects, suddenly, vaguely aware he's trying to change the subject, but _also_ vaguely aware that this may not be the best way to do it. "We should just go to Strex headquarters right now and tell them to surrender. It would be much quicker. And you could all do those demon-summoning things that _completely_ violate the laws of thermodynamics, and glare and stuff, and I'd even let Frederick rebuild his death ray, and it would save a lot of time…"

Cecil stares suspiciously down at the man half-curled on top of him. "No more alcohol for you," he says, firmly.

"No more revolutions for you!" Kevin adds. "Seriously, it's a wonder you've survived this long."

"Well, I had help…" Carlos murmurs, batting at him.

"Uh… you know the rest of us are still here, right?" Kirsten cuts in, carefully.

Carlos goes very pink and curls up against Cecil again, head buried in his chest.

"What time is it, anyway?" Steve wonders.

"Time doesn't exist," Carlos points out, without moving, and thereby not very audibly at all.

This apparently causes some confusion. "What did he say?" Kirsten asks.

"He said time doesn't exist," Cecil answers, helpfully.

"It doesn't," Frederick agrees. "Or, not properly, anyway. It's very weird. Have you ever tried looking in the clocks?"

"No," Kirsten replies. "Should I?"

Frederick shakes his head. "I wouldn't recommend it."

"I did, once," Steve says. "I was checking for government monitoring devices."

"What happened?" Frederick asks.

Steve looks deadly serious. "It _bit_ me."

"…A government monitoring device?" Kirsten says.

"The clock," Steve clarifies.

"Told you!" Carlos cuts in, somewhat triumphantly, rolling onto his back again. He looks over at his glass, which is empty, and then looks up at Cecil, all big, dark, hopeful eyes.

"No more alcohol for you," Cecil tells him, firmly.

Carlos pouts, and then looks over at Kevin with the same hopeful expression. "If you think I'm the good double right now, you're going to be disappointed," Kevin says.

Sometimes you just can't win.

***

Eventually some semblance of common sense breaks through, and they all agree it would be wise to go off to bed. If nothing else, Cecil eventually works out that Carlos has technically been awake for almost three straight days, due to having not slept the previous night, and on account of repeating the day prior to that via the time-travelling deer.

The exhaustion perhaps explains why he's gone so weird. Carlos is vaguely aware of this as he staggers upstairs, one arm round Cecil and the other around Kevin, feeling very much in favour of collapsing in a ball between the two of them and just _sleeping_.

It's around about the time that he drops back on the bed with Cecil going down on him and Kevin kissing his neck over and over that Carlos realises his two boyfriends might be intent on easing him off to sleep a more interesting way.

But he really isn't going to argue.

When Carlos comes to, there's still light filtering under the curtains (and if the sun would be so considerate as to actually _set_ tonight, he'd be infinitely grateful) and he has no idea what time it would allege to be if time existed. What he does know is that he's curled in bed, lying on Kevin's chest with Cecil spooned up close behind him.

What he also knows is that his head hurts. Vague memories of couches and Armagnac and Steve Carlsberg doing a whole host of voices come filtering back, and Carlos groans, closing his eyes again and willing the world to go away for a while longer.

"You alive down there..?" Kevin murmurs.

"No," Carlos replies.

Kevin strokes through his hair and down his arm, making him shiver. "You _feel_ alive."

"Not inside my head I don't," Carlos insists. "Whose idea was the drinking?"

"I think it was Naomi's," Cecil now says, apparently awake too.

"Oh great," Carlos murmurs. "That means we can't get cross with her."

"We could always just decide it was Steve's fault," Cecil suggests, helpfully.

Carlos groans softly again. "Please don't provoke him. Not until my head hurts less."

It's at this point that Kevin laughs, just a little. "You know what you need?"

"Something quiet and dark?" Carlos manages.

Kevin shakes his head. "No. Acetylsalicylic acid."

Carlos has to try to hide the shiver of pleasure at this. "I should never have taught you that one. But you're right. Aspirin and coffee. _Lots_ of coffee. When we get up. Not getting up yet. Moving is bad."

It's at this point that Cecil slips a hand between Carlos' legs and starts to stroke him, slow and firm. "I'm sure we can distract you another way," he whispers.

Carlos whimpers softly, trying to press back against Cecil and curl into Kevin more at the same time. As he does, Kevin runs a fingertip along his jaw, tilting his head up and kissing him.

"You saved the town last night," Kevin points out, when the kiss breaks.

"It was… _oh_ … it was a joint effort," Carlos insists. "And this isn't… isn't over yet… _oh please, Cecil, don't stop…_ "

Cecil presses in closer, kissing the back of his neck, and Kevin slides that finger under Carlos' jaw again. "Maybe so," he whispers. "But I owe you. _Big_ time. So tell me… just how would you like me to show my gratitude? I'm sure my dear double would be only too pleased to help out…"

Apparently, he's quite right.

Amazing, really.

***

By the time the three of them _do_ make it downstairs, it's late morning. They aren't the only ones forgoing the usual early start, however: it's at least another quarter-hour before Steve appears, and he looks as eager to get at the aspirin as Carlos.

Drug-seeking behaviour aside, Carlos feels pretty damn wonderful. Needless to say, Kevin was quite serious about wanting to thank him, quite in favour of getting Cecil to help, and both of them were _very_ enthusiastic about the whole thing.

He knows he looks more than a little spaced-out again. He's trying to hide it, but it isn't easy, even with the hangover as an added excuse.

Breakfast helps. Everyone feels somewhat worse for wear, but there's general consensus that bacon and toast are both excellent methods to address it. As is the coffee: lovely dark, rich, bitter coffee; hot and strong, just the way Carlos likes his…

…OK, hopefully he didn't say that part out loud.

"Well," Steve starts, "what's the next step in this insane plan of yours?"

"We need to spread the word about what's happened," Naomi replies. "The destruction of the Bloodstone will be major news – no one will be able to miss it – but Strexcorp will try to spin the story to their advantage. We need to do the same."

"We need to do a broadcast," Cecil says.

Naomi nods. "My thoughts exactly," she agrees. "I want to get both you and Kevin on air. Put out a rallying call that no one will forget."

"Cecil and I worked on something the other day," Kevin chips in. "Whilst the scientists were busy with science."

"Perfect," Naomi answers.

"There's just one thing," Cecil goes on. "We want the broadcast to go out across Desert Bluffs _and_ Night Vale. Strexcorp is our common enemy, and I think there are people from both sides who would unite to take it down."

"The local transmission towers aren't powerful enough to broadcast that far," Carlos says. "Not without something to boost the signal. Unless… hmmmm…"

"Oooh, you've got Thought Face," Frederick remarks. "What are you planning?"

"Well, we just need to put up something simple to carry the signal," Carlos replies. "Something that Strexcorp won't immediately detect as a threat."

Steve snaps his fingers, an idea clearly coming to mind. "Weather balloons!" he exclaims.

"Weather balloons?" Cecil repeats, looking sceptical.

"Yes!" Steve replies. "Weather balloons. The government uses them all the time as cover for various types of surveillance monitoring equipment, and I bet Strex has done the same. All we'd need to do is put up some weather balloons of our own on the northern edge of town, fit them with whatever kind of signal-boosters you guys can come up with, and then use that to broadcast across both towns simultaneously."

Carlos nods, thinking it through. "Yes," he agrees. "Yes, that would work nicely. The signal-boosters themselves should be easy to build, but it would definitely save time if we could get our hands on some actual weather balloons rather than having to construct those too…"

"…I think I can assist with that," Kevin cuts in, with a sudden smile.

"…Oh," Kirsten says, clearly understanding. "You think he'll help?"

"I think he might," Kevin replies.

"Who?" Cecil asks.

"Ted," Kevin answers. "Ted the Weatherman."

"Oh, your station's weather guy," Steve says, realising.

Kevin looks a little surprised. "You know about him?"

Cecil sighs. "Steve used to listen to both our shows," he explains.

"Why?" Kevin asks.

" _Truth-seeking_ ," is all Steve will say in reply.

Cecil facepalms. "…So this weatherman of yours… can we trust him?"

Kevin nods. "I think so. We've been friends for years and he's actually really smart, even if he does sometimes come across as a little… extravagant."

" _You_ think he's _extravagant?_ " Cecil exclaims. "I can't wait to meet him. He must be _quite_ the character."

This gets him a suspicious look from Kevin, but no more. "He is. You'll like him. And Carlos has met him before, of course."

"…Before I moved to Night Vale," Carlos adds, hastily and – he realises afterwards – unnecessarily.

"Well," Naomi says, in her sensible leader voice, "sounds like we have a plan. Kevin, Cecil, Carlos, Steve, you work on getting these signal-boosters implemented. Frederick, you mentioned something to me earlier about wanting to do some tests now that the Bloodstone is gone?"

He nods. "Yes. I took a lot of ambient readings before we destroyed it, and I want to repeat the tests now. It should give me a better idea of how the thing's effects really worked, and how rapidly they'll fade."

"All right," Naomi agrees. "Can you do that from here?"

"Yes," Frederick says.

"Perfect. In that case, you get on with what you need to do, and in the meantime Darla and I will start contacting our allies in town. We need to start building up support for this revolution."

"…I can help with that," Kirsten chips in. "I mean, if you want me to."

Naomi smiles. "Of course. So long as Gillian will be OK staying here with Frederick?"

Gillian gives a little shrug, and an odd smile. "I'll be fine," she answers. "I have some stuff I can do online. Don't worry about me."

This is somewhat cryptic, but no one argues – not even her mother – and Gillian happily goes back to her toast, evidently accepting the silence as approval.

"Well, then," Naomi says, "here goes Stage Three."

Kirsten headtilts. "Stage Three?"

"Yes. Stage One was rescuing you. Stage Two was destroying the Bloodstone. And Stage Three is liberating Desert Bluffs from Strexcorp once and for all."

"…Don't ask a lot, do you?" Kirsten remarks, going a little pink at realising she was the first step in all this.

And Naomi merely smiles. "Only everything," she replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After several fairly angst-heavy chapters, I figured it was about time I let everyone have the chance to relax a little! Plus, a) drunk Carlos never gets old, and b) it was a good opportunity for Steve to show off his voice-mimicry. (Needless to say, when that part came up in _Old Oak Doors_ , I nearly died laughing!)


	14. The Sound of Silence

_And in the naked light I saw_  
_Ten thousand people, maybe more_  
_People talking without speaking_  
_People hearing without listening_  
_People writing songs that voices never share_  
_And no one dared_  
_Disturb the sound of silence_

~ Simon & Garfunkel: _'The Sound of Silence'_

***

The tricky part in all this, it turns out, is finding a way to contact Ted the Weatherman without Strex noticing. The enforcer presence in town has been stepped up markedly overnight, and the four of them have to use extra care when moving about. Using Naomi's van does help with that because at least three of them can lurk in the rear, out of sight.

They park up round the back of the radio station in the centre of Desert Bluffs, and all pause inside the van.

"OK," Kevin starts out. "I have an idea. But I'm not certain you're going to like it. Ted has an office in the main building, though I very much doubt we can get in there without being seen. However, he spends most of his time up on the roof, in his meteorology shack."

"…His _what?_ " Cecil exclaims.

"His meteorology shack," Kevin repeats. "He has all sorts of weather-forecasting gear in there. It's quite interesting, actually. The tricky part is… we're going to need to get up to it without using the internal stairs."

Carlos facepalms. "We have to climb up on the roof?"

Kevin nods. "We have to climb up on the roof."

Some days the world really does ask too much.

***

It isn't an easy or quick process but – somehow – they manage it, even with Cecil and Steve grousing at each other most of the time. Eventually, they haul themselves up onto the roof of the building, around the back of the small, central structure that serves as the entrance to the internal stairs, and the exit to the helipad.

Carlos is in no hurry to see _that_ again.

Close by, built on the flat roof, is a sturdy-looking metal hut with no windows. It has the words 'Meteorology Department' stencilled on the side in white, and a single door at one end.

"This is it," Kevin whispers. "I'll go in first, so he doesn't freak out. He should be fine, but just to be on the cautious side, don't mention anything crucial like where the safehouse is."

"We're not idiots, Kevin," Steve replies, pointedly.

"Then this should be _no_ trouble for you," Kevin answers, brightly, and leads the way over to the door to the shack.

He hesitates a second, and Carlos can see a flicker in his eyes that's very reminiscent of the way he was _before_ … when the Bloodstone had hold of him… but it's gone almost as rapidly, and then Kevin pushes the door carefully open.

Inside, just as Kevin told them, there is an array of meteorological equipment, some of it very advanced. Carlos' eyes flick over it, his natural scientific curiosity making him want to hurry over and examine readouts, to get a better handle on what all the devices do, but he doesn't dare move until he knows it's safe.

"…By the Smiling God…" breathes the shack's single occupant. " _Kevin?!_ "

"Hey, Ted," Kevin says. "Can we talk?"

"Goodness, yes, get in here before anyone sees you! And… whoa, OK, you brought…"

Ted rises to his feet as all four of them step into the shack, closing the door behind them, and it's clear he doesn't quite know where to begin. The man himself is pretty much exactly as Carlos remembers him: overly-bright, slightly-clashing shirt and tie, with hair that could most kindly be described as 'enthusiastic'. But there's no malevolence in his eyes, and Carlos remains hopeful that he'll be someone they can trust.

For the moment, Ted the Weatherman is obviously trying to work out what to say first. Perhaps reassuringly, what he eventually comes out with is, "…Are you all right?"

"Oh, sure, I'm fine," Kevin replies.

"Good, 'cause I've been worried!" Ted says. "After your broadcast a few days back, you completely disappeared, and I thought…" He drops his voice. "I thought Strex might have given you a severance package."

Kevin shrugs. "They'd like to, I'm sure. Luckily I'm still one step ahead of them."

"So I see," Ted manages. "Ah… Kevin… so you came here with Carlos and your double and… and another guy..?"

The question is entirely redundant, but it has the intended effect. "Introductions!" Kevin says, brightly again. "Ted, you remember Carlos, and then this is Cecil, my double, and this is Steve, Cecil's brother-in-law."

"A pleasure to meet you," Ted replies, shaking Cecil's hand and then Steve's, and then Carlos' too for good measure, even though they've met several times before. "So, go on then, tell me. Why are you here, and did you climb up the outside of the building to stop anyone inside spotting you?"

"…We did do that, yes," Kevin answers. "And as for your main question… we need your help."

There's surprise on Ted's face at that. "You do?"

"Yes. And… I assume by now Strex has made some sort of announcement about all of us?"

Ted nods. "Oh yes. It went out this morning: radio, television, internet, even the newspapers. They said a band of dissidents, led by people from Night Vale, had destroyed the Bloodstone. Well, I wouldn't have believed it, except that… except that I do, because…"

"…Because you can't hear the song anymore?" Carlos asks, carefully.

Ted's eyes go a little hazy. "The song..? I… oh, yes, yes, I remember. Sorry. Most people didn't know they were hearing it, not really… not until it vanished, and now…"

"…The silence is somewhat deafening?" Kevin surmises.

"Yeah," Ted answers. The serious expression lingers for a moment, and then his exuberant brightness returns in full force. "Well! A quartet of genuine dissidents in my own humble meteorology shack! How thrilling! So what can I do you for, gentlemen? Have you..?" He looks suddenly excited. "…Have you come to _recruit_ me?"

Kevin grins. "I guess we have," he says. "How would you feel about acting against Strex?"

"If you'd asked me yesterday, I might have said no, but now… Kevin, I don't know what you and your friends did to the Bloodstone, but my head feels clearer than it has in years, and I'm sure the two things are connected…"

"Oh, they are," Cecil tells him. "Trust us, they are."

"Marvellous!" Ted exclaims, giving a little bounce on his heels. "Well, then, what do you need me for? Surely weather forecasting doesn't play into your plans. Or does it?"

"More so than you might think," Carlos replies. "What we need… are some weather balloons. Something Strex won't look at twice. Something we can use to float a couple of signal-boosters up between Desert Bluffs and Night Vale."

"Ah," Ted answers, understanding. "Planning a dual-broadcast, are you? Yes, yes, that would be a good way to do it. Strex often asks to tag their own equipment onto my weather balloons, so I'm sure they won't pay any attention if we put a few more up. I can see you're still as smart as ever!"

"How fast can we do it?" Carlos asks.

"If you've got the signal-boosters with you, pretty darn quick!" Ted replies. "I have a few spare balloons on hand. We could get your devices wired in, and then go send them up this afternoon."

"Perfect!" Kevin exclaims. "I knew we could count on you."

"Happy to do it, Kevin, you know that," Ted tells him. "And I'm happy to help further, if you need me. Although… I'd appreciate it if we could keep my involvement secret, at least as long as possible. I have kids, and…"

"Say no more," Steve interrupts, suddenly slipping into Fierce Parent Mode to such an extent that even Cecil doesn't comment. "I have a step-daughter. Janice. She's thirteen."

Ted smiles. "Mine are twins. Ben and Richie. Just turned eight. And if it was only me… I wouldn't be so worried. But I don't want Strex using them against me."

"We understand completely," Cecil says, and perhaps there's a flicker of Fierce Uncle Mode coming into play here, too. "We'll keep your involvement as quiet as possible."

" _I'll_ see to that," Kevin promises. "If I left it up to these two, they'd probably put it on banners all around town."

"Hey!" Carlos protests. "We're not that bad!"

"Carlos, dear Carlos, you're close," Kevin says.

The trouble is, he has a point. Even if the banners would be going a _bit_ far.

"Awwww, you lot are adorable!" Ted exclaims. "Well, come on, let's see about getting these weather balloons prepared."

"Whilst you're working… do you mind if I borrow your computer?" Steve asks. "I promise no one will know."

"Oh, sure," Ted agrees.

"Yeah, he's a _prominent_ user of the Dark Net," Cecil says, pointedly.

This does not have the effect Cecil evidently wanted. "Really?!" Ted exclaims. "How exciting! Oh, you are going to have to show me that later!"

Steve grins. "Sure thing."

Carlos facepalms. "So, these balloons…"

***

It takes about an hour and a half to attach the signal-boosters to a pair of weather balloons, wiring them in to the onboard batteries. Whilst Carlos and Ted work, Steve sits typing away on Ted's laptop, hardly talking at all and looking like he's very engrossed in whatever he's doing. Cecil tries asking at one point, but all Steve does is tell him to be quiet and then carry on working and – for once – Cecil takes the hint.

The time is hardly silent, though, because Ted certainly doesn't believe in not talking. Whilst they work, he quizzes Kevin on everything: on his time in Night Vale, on why he betrayed Strex, on how he ended up with the pair of them and on what coming back to Desert Bluffs is like.

If Carlos didn't know the man so well, he'd be a little alarmed by the interest – maybe even suspicious of it – but he's had enough experience of Ted to realise that the guy is just _very_ talkative and _very_ inquisitive. And Ted is nearly a scientist, after all – he's a meteorologist so he studies weather, not science, but the methodologies are pretty close – so the ceaseless curiosity makes sense, even if Ted is rather more extraverted than most of the scientists Carlos usually works with.

"…And done," Carlos says, eventually. "That's it. The balloons are ready."

"They sure are!" Ted agrees. "We need to take them to the northern edge of town and launch them, and then by the time we get back they should be in prime position to boost the radio signal all the way over to Night Vale."

"Which… leaves us with one problem," Carlos realises. "We need to get into the broadcast station without anyone realising. Or being able to stop us, at least for a short time. Certainly longer than we'd get by locking the studio door."

"You… don't have a plan for that part?" Ted asks, with just the barest nervous flicker.

Perhaps unhelpfully, Kevin responds by calmly drawing his knife and holding it up, not saying a word.

"…You're going to _kill_ everyone?" Cecil says.

Kevin shrugs. "If I have to. Besides… haven't you always _wanted_ to stick sharp things in Daniel just to see what happens?"

"…Once or twice," Cecil admits, a little sheepishly. "But even so…"

"…This is what you have _me_ for," Steve interrupts; the first time he's spoken in more than an hour. Everyone turns to look at him, as Steve finally raises his attention from the laptop screen. "You see," he goes on, "this is your problem: if you can't solve it with science or by talking it to death, you point the maniac at it and wait for the screaming to stop. And OK, yes, it's a cute little solution, but eventually other people come looking for the bodies, and…" He trails off, evidently hoping his point is made.

" _So?_ " Cecil demands, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

" _So_ , like I said, this is what you have me for," Steve repeats, turning the laptop screen so they can all see. Half of it is taken up with a window filled with lines of code, but the other half seems to be displaying a map of the radio station, with various sections flashing.

"We don't need navigation tips, Steve," Cecil replies. "We need a diversion."

"I _know_ that," Steve answers. "So take your pick… fire, flood, demonic gate, sentient cloud, malevolent presence, electrical failure, deadly virus…"

"Whoa, are you in the building's security systems?" Ted asks, clearly impressed. "You _are_ good."

Steve gestures expansively with one arm. "Finally, some appreciation! Yes, I am in the building's security systems. You say the word, and I can clear the whole place out with any number of alarms and then lock it down. They'll be able to break through eventually, but it should buy you a good chunk of time to get this broadcast done."

"That's… actually pretty impressive," Cecil murmurs, clearly begrudgingly.

"So no poking Daniel with sharp things?" Kevin says, pouting.

"Possibly not," Carlos tells him. "I'm sure there's always next time…"

"Well, then!" Ted says, bright once more. "In that case, assuming you've got suitable transport, we should head out to launch these balloons."

Kevin gestures to the doorway. "We're going to have to climb down the building again," he reminds them.

 _One day,_ Carlos tells himself, _one day life will be easy._

Though it doesn't look to be any day soon.

***

The four of them meet Ted around the back of the building, once they're done climbing off it; Ted bringing the balloons and his laptop, along with news of the excuse he's had to spin for Daniel in order to explain where he was going.

"I said it was urgent, a really unusual phenomenon," Ted tells him, as they clamber into the van. "I had to think fast, so I said it was a glowing cloud that rains dead animals, and do you _know_ how rare they are, and that I have to go out right now to study it."

Cecil grins. "We have one of those over in Night Vale."

Ted stares at him, clearly stunned. "You do?"

"Uh-huh. Moved in a couple of years ago. It's the head of the local school board."

This makes Ted bounce with excitement. "You have a _sentient cloud_ running your school board?!"

"Oh yes," Steve tells him, a little wearily. "The Glow Cloud. It makes the PTA meetings somewhat… fraught."

"I can imagine," Ted replies. "Wow, that is so very cool! I am going to have to come over and see it sometime."

Ted, visiting Night Vale to meet the Glow Cloud. There are some things that Future Carlos is just going to have to deal with, because Present Carlos does not have the mental capacity – or the sanity – to manage it.

They head into the scrublands just north of Desert Bluffs in order to release the weather balloons, watching as they soar slowly into the hot air, drifting rapidly out of sight.

"…Just think how many of them are up there already," Steve muses. "All sorts of organisations use them to monitor the population: the government, Strexcorp, the Illuminati, NBC…"

Carlos blinks at him. "…NBC?"

Steve shrugs. "How else do you explain the state of their programming?"

Sometimes it is safer to smile and nod.

***

They make it back to the radio station a short time later, parking at the rear once more.

"All right," Steve murmurs, flipping open Ted's laptop and reconnecting to the network, "just a few clicks… a little code and… boom! Who's the smartest man in the van?"

"Carlos," Cecil insists, without hesitating.

Steve narrows his eyes. "Some days it's like you _don't_ want my help," he grouses. "OK. Fine. We can save the part where you tell me how awesome I am for later. Right now… how exactly would you like that building cleared?"

"Fire," Carlos says.

"Malevolent presence," Cecil says.

"Demonic gate," Kevin says.

Steve shrugs and grins, then taps away for a moment before looking up. "Done!"

"…Which one?" Ted asks.

"All of them," Steve replies.

In the distance, alarms are going off. A _lot_ of alarms are going off. They have no option but to sit and wait as – hopefully – the building clears out due to the sudden… malevolent flaming demon gate?

It's probably borderline-normal, all things being considered.

The security interface operates in real-time (a misnomer of course, given that time isn't real), which means that Steve can monitor the evacuation process easily. After several minutes, he looks up and gestures to the door with a flourish.

"You may now proceed," he says, faux-grandly. "The building is clear. Strex is setting up a cordon at the front, but if you go now you should be able to get in the rear door before they come to check it out. I'd say you probably have ten to fifteen minutes before the specialist team arrives to sweep the building and they realise it's a false alarm, but maybe less if any of them tunes in to the broadcast whilst it's going out, so you should get moving."

Cecil looks oddly concerned, even if he's obviously trying to hide it. "You're not coming?"

Steve shakes his head. "I'm more use to you if I stay here and monitor the system. I might even be able to buy you extra time with a few additional diversions if necessary."

"And you can't do that inside?"

"Sure I can. But here I can do it in peace and quiet."

This gets him a scowl, which is much more normal. "Fine, then," Cecil agrees.

"What about me?" Ted now wonders.

Kevin puts a hand on his shoulder. "You should circle around and 'arrive' back at the station to discover what's been going on in your absence. That way no one will have reason to suspect your involvement and you won't be in any danger."

Ted looks almost grateful. "I owe you," he says.

"Are you serious?" Kevin replies. "We owe you, big time."

"Yeah, we couldn't have done this without you," Cecil agrees.

"Happy to help," Ted tells them. "And – so long as it doesn't put my kids in danger – happy to help again. You know that."

"We do," Kevin says. "And we'll be in touch. If nothing else, you'll be wanting your laptop back."

Ted grins. "Then I'll hopefully see you soon. Good luck with your broadcast."

And off he goes, whilst – leaving Steve holed up in the van – Cecil, Kevin and Carlos slip into the radio station via the rear door. Inside… well. Inside is as bloody as ever. Carlos tries not to think about it as Kevin leads them quickly down to his old broadcast studio, shutting the door once they're in.

"Back again," Kevin says, looking around wistfully for a moment before his professional side snaps into play. "Right. Broadcast time."

It takes a little setting up, mostly for Carlos to make sure the signal-boosters on those two balloons will pick up the transmission successfully, but after a moment he steps back – wishing the equipment wasn't covered in blood – and gives them both a nod. "It's all yours."

And this part… well. It really is a shame they're in a building that will soon be a target for every enforcer for miles, and in a room coated in way more blood than Carlos can handle, because _this_ part? The two of them, not just dual-broadcasting but outright calling for an uprising?

The three of them are going to need some _alone time_ when they make it back to the safehouse. _Plenty_ of alone time.

"You ready for this?" Cecil says to Kevin, as they settle at microphones on either side of the desk.

"As I'll ever be," Kevin replies.

They don't discuss what they're going to say, or how… but then, they don't need to. They've been preparing for this for days, and now… their moment has come.

Lights flash on… and they're live.

 _"We do not look around,"_ Kevin begins.

 _"We do not look inside,"_ Cecil continues.

_"We do not sleep."_

_"Our god is not a Smiling God."_

**_"But we are everything,"_** they say, in unison, voices sending a wonderful shiver down Carlos' spine, and even more so when – still in unison – they intone a line that takes his breath away.

_"Welcome to the Greater Desert Bluffs **and** Night Vale Metropolitan Areas."_

Is the studio audience allowed to cheer? Because in that moment, Carlos seriously considers it.

 _"First off,"_ Kevin continues, now speaking on his own again, _"some explanations. This is Kevin…"_

_"…and this is Cecil…"_

_"…and, if all has gone according to plan, this is the first ever simultaneous dual-broadcast across the towns of Night Vale and Desert Bluffs."_

_"Little bit of history right here,"_ Cecil remarks.

 _"There sure is,"_ Kevin agrees. _"Now. For a long time, I was the voice of Desert Bluffs, and my double Cecil was the voice of Night Vale, and more recently we have both been the voice of Night Vale. But today… we're much more than that."_

 _"Quite right,"_ Cecil says. _"We're the voices of Night Vale and Desert Bluffs and everyone who calls either town home. Everyone… who might want to call_ both _towns home. And most importantly, we're the voices calling out to everyone in these two great cities; saying things that… perhaps… are long overdue."_

 _"Night Vale is free,"_ Kevin goes on. _"Night Vale is free because, when the crucial moment came, its brave people stood up and threw off the shackles of Strexcorp. Its brave people came together in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds and triumphed even when all hope seemed lost."_

For a fleeting second, he puts his hand on his side, and Carlos is struck by the need to run over and hold him… but he doesn't quite dare move.

 _"We were there,"_ Cecil continues. _"We were there the day the sun unravelled. We were there the day a quintet of_ demons _tried to unleash untold horrors upon us all. We were there the day the unopening door opened… and a radiant hero returned to a battlefield already covered in radiant heroes."_

 _"It was a day never to be forgotten,"_ Kevin says. _"But more than that… it was a day that proved something never before proven: Strexcorp can be defeated. Strexcorp can be pushed back. Strexcorp can be stopped. And it happened. The people of Night Vale know it, and now everyone in Desert Bluffs can hear the same truth, loud and clear: Strexcorp_ can _be defeated."_

They pause a second, as if aware that these words need a chance to sink in.

 _"Desert Bluffs is not free,"_ Cecil now goes on. _"Up until last night, this is a truth even its own people could not – for the most part – realise. But now they can. Now the Bloodstone – the huge, cursed rock that has stood at the centre of Desert Bluffs for decades – is gone. Its terrible psychic song no longer rings in the minds of everyone here and, at last, all of you can think clearly. All of you can_ see _clearly. And perhaps you are, for the very first time, doing just that."_

 _"There was a revolution in Night Vale,"_ Kevin continues. _"I was there. I aided it. I regret nothing. And in the end… despite hardship, and oppression, and fear… that revolution triumphed. And now, it is time for the same thing to happen in Desert Bluffs. So we're calling on every citizen of this amazing town to rise up, to take a stand, to say clear and loud and from the heart: No more Strexcorp. No more oppression. No more fear. Rise up with us. Rise up and say: We want them out. We were here before they came along, and we will be here long after they are gone. We are Desert Bluffs: terrifying, wonderful, and scientifically-interesting. And we will be free."_

 _"But there is more to this,"_ Cecil says, after a brief pause. _"We have dual-broadcast this message for a reason: Desert Bluffs should not have to stand alone. We have been rivals too long… and hey, maybe our sports teams always will be… but in this, I have no doubt: making peace with your double is a very,_ very _good idea. Trust me. So we're calling on the people of Night Vale to do for Desert Bluffs what my own double once did for you: to put aside what divides us and embrace what unites us. To rise up and see that the real enemy here is not each other, but Strexcorp Synernists Inc. To join with the people of Desert Bluffs – most of them our own doubles – and to say: We are Night Vale: temporal, beautiful, and scientifically-interesting. And we do not let our friends stand alone."_

 _"Rise up, Desert Bluffs,"_ Kevin declares, looking ready to leap to his feet. _"Rise up for your freedom."_

 _"Rise up, Night Vale,"_ Cecil adds, actually holding his arms out. _"Rise up for your friends."_

 _"I wish we could talk to you all for longer,"_ Kevin goes on, after another little pause, _"but, alas, we will have to run before Strexcorp catches up with us."_

 _"But soon,"_ Cecil continues, _"it is Strexcorp who will have to run… before_ we _catch up with_ them _."_

Carlos shivers again. Merciful Einstein, the two of them are _ridiculously_ hot when they're like this.

 _"And so, until next time, Night Vale…"_ Kevin concludes.

 _"…Goodnight, Desert Bluffs…"_ Cecil continues.

 ** _"Goodnight,"_** they intone, in unison, and darn it if that isn't the most _distracting_ thing in the world. Distracting and wonderful.

There's a moment's silence… and then the two doubles sit back.

"We did it," Kevin whispers.

"Yeah, I think we did," Cecil agrees.

"…You're just lucky we're in mortal peril or I would _so_ jump the pair of you right now," Carlos manages.

The three of them look at each other, a silent promise to save this sentiment for later. But for now, in the distance, alarms are still sounding and they have an escape to make.

So – through a door this time, not a window – they run. They run, whilst a rallying cry echoes in hearts and minds two towns wide.

This is where it begins.

***

They can hear enforcers spilling into the building from the front, but luckily they're able to make it back to the rear door without being spotted, slipping out into the alleyway behind the studio. And _wow_ , but Carlos feels just _great_ right now. Even leaving aside the part where he'd very much like to jump both his boyfriends as soon as possible, that rallying cry was amazing, and he can only imagine the effect it's having across both towns.

Maybe they're actually going to make this work.

The three of them reach the van and knock lightly on the side so Steve can let them in.

But there's no answer.

Carlos goes cold, as the three of them exchange worried looks and knock again, a little louder.

Still nothing.

Cecil obviously can't wait any longer. He yanks on the door handle, finding it unlocked and thereby pulling the side of the van open all at once… and Carlos' heart nearly stops in shock and horror at the sight awaiting them.

Steve Carlsberg is gone. The laptop he was using lies at an odd angle on the inner floor of the van, the words "access denied" flashing over and over on the screen, but its last user is nowhere to be found.

But that isn't the worst part. Oh no. The worst part is staring right at them: words written in blood on the internal wall of the van:

_"You wanted war. You got it. LM."_

And now… Carlos understands that he was wrong.

 _This_ is where it begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Aaaaaaand cliffhanger! Well, it seemed a good place to stop... plus at time of posting I am only halfway through Chapter 15.
> 
> But rest assured, this one is still going strong, and there is plenty more to come!
> 
> Coming up next in Chiralityverse... The members of the Desert Bluffs proto-revolution reel from Steve's abduction, but there's also hope in the form of a call from Night Vale with the first promise of support. And then there's the whole business with the Mayoral Election...
> 
> EDIT: And now - at last - there's more!


	15. Bad Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry to have taken so long. I do, however, return with five new chapters and a lot more plot, so - if you're still here - thanks for sticking around! :-)

_All this bad blood here, won't you let it dry?_  
 _It's been cold for years, won't you let it lie?_

~ Bastille: _'Bad Blood'_

***

The journey to the safehouse is not an easy one.

Kevin, as usual, drives; sitting up front and muttering darkly to himself most of the way. Cecil and Carlos have little choice but to stay in the back, trying not to look at the words daubed in blood on the wall.

Cecil is more upset than Carlos has seen him in ages. He's still blaming Steve for everything a good fifty to sixty percent of the time, but beneath it all he's clearly worried out of his mind, and Carlos knows full-well that Cecil and Steve care about each other far more than either would ever let on.

By the time they reach the safehouse – taking a _very_ indirect route so Kevin can be sure no one is following them – everyone else is already back. They're greeted in the hallway by excited faces, evidently delighted by the success of the broadcast, which blend to looks of horror as they see the distress in the returnees' eyes and realise that they're a man down.

"What happened?" Naomi asks, voice hollow.

"…Everything went so well," Kevin begins. "Ted, the signal-boosters, the broadcast, all of it. It was textbook. But… Steve had been running interference for us. He'd borrowed Ted's laptop, hacked the Strex systems… he was the one who cleared out the building by setting off the alarms… and he was waiting in the van whilst we did the broadcast. Only… only, when we got back…"

"…He was gone!" Cecil exclaims, voice cracking. "Strex took him. Strex has _my brother-in-law!_ "

"You're sure?" says Naomi.

"I'm afraid so," Carlos replies. "There… there was writing on the inside of the van. Writing… writing in _blood_. It says… _'You wanted war. You got it. LM'_."

"I'm going to kill her!" Naomi exclaims, clearly flooding with rage. "I'm going to find that jumped-up little _witch_ and do things to her that would make _Kevin_ flinch."

"Except that I'm going to be right there with you," Kevin insists, darkly. "Nobody hurts one of us. _Nobody_."

"What are we going to do?" Cecil asks, and it's scary how distraught he is. "We have to find him, he's… he's _Steve!_ We can't let Strex do anything to him, we _can't_. And Caitlin… oh, masters of us all, Caitlin is going to _kill_ me..!"

"Strex will keep him alive," Naomi insists. "They know who he is. They know he's one of the people who drove them out of Night Vale."

This doesn't calm Cecil down at all. "But that won't stop them hurting him. They know he's been with us. He knows where this place is. Where we are." His voice is hollow, and Carlos puts both arms around him, pulling him in tight. It's scary, seeing Cecil like this, especially because it's so rare… and because the few other times it's happened, Carlos hasn't been there _to_ see it – on account of it being _him_ who was the one in danger – and has only heard about it afterwards.

"I know," Naomi replies. "And that's why we're going to have to move again, just in case. Tonight."

Carlos stares. "You have somewhere _else_ we can go?"

Naomi shrugs. "Including the place where James is currently hiding out, I have four more safehouses. And that doesn't count the various allies I have who would take us in if needed. Trust me, Carlos, I can keep us on the run far longer than you think."

It's hard to know what to say to this. It's a good thing, certainly, but it's also a little scary.

They need a moment to take stock of the situation. Naomi manages to get everyone to move into the living room, where they can settle on various couches, all looking very alarmed by this latest development. Kirsten sits quietly with her arm around her daughter, whilst Cecil sits with Kevin and Carlos on either side, holding on to him.

Even Frederick seems a little shell-shocked… but then, he and Steve have been getting on surprisingly well.

"You could always just call Lauren," Darla suggests, after a long moment, her own eyes dark. "Call her and tell her to give him back, or else. Then I get to be the 'or else'."

"We need to think about this carefully," Naomi replies, evidently opting for the more sensible approach even though she looks about ready to take Darla up on her idea. "The last thing we want is–"

But before she can get another word out, someone's cellphone starts to ring, making them all jump.

"That's… oh…" Cecil murmurs, sticking his hand in his pocket and pulling his phone out. "…That's mine." And, despite everything, his expression suddenly lights up. "It's Dana!"

He answers the call at once, clicking the phone onto speaker so everyone else can hear too. "Hello? Dana?"

"Cecil!" comes the voice of the timeless young woman who was pivotal in saving Night Vale… and in saving Kevin's life too. "Cecil, oh my goodness, I finally got through to you! Is it true? Are you really in Desert Bluffs?"

"Yes, yes I am," he answers, "but… Dana, what do you mean you 'finally got through to me'?"

"I've been trying to reach you for days!" she exclaims. "No one knew where you or Kevin or Carlos had gone, but after all that trouble with the Strexcorp helicopter the day before you disappeared, the Secret Police were convinced the three of you had been abducted!"

Cecil looks more than a little guilty. "Ah… no, no, we weren't abducted. Kevin found out his sister was in trouble, so he ran off to rescue her and we went after him."

"We know that now," Dana replies. "After Steve Carlsberg disappeared too, your sister came forward and said that he'd gone to Desert Bluffs to find you. Cecil, Caitlin's worried sick. We all are. We've been trying and trying to call you – to call any of you – but we could never get an answer. And then the scientists spoke up and said one of their team had come out after you too, and they'd been trying to get in touch with him but they couldn't either, because there's some kind of new jamming field around Desert Bluffs. It was only today when you made your dual-broadcast that they realised they could use the signal-boosters you launched to get a cellphone call through. So we tried… and, after a few snags… it worked! Oh Cecil, it's so good to hear your voice again! Are you all right? Are Carlos and Kevin with you?"

"Yes," Cecil answers. "Yes, they're with me and they're fine. So is Frederick – the scientist who came to help us. But…"

His voice wavers.

"Cecil, what is it?" Dana asks, gently.

"It's Steve," Cecil replies. "He was abducted by Strex about an hour ago."

" _What?!_ " comes a second voice in the background: unmistakably Caitlin Carlsberg, Cecil's sister. "Strex has Steve?!"

"Oh God," Cecil breathes. "Caitlin, you're there too? If I'd known, I… Caitlin… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Don't you apologise, Cecil Palmer," Caitlin replies, voice becoming much clearer as she evidently moves closer to the phone on the other end. "My husband is quite capable of getting himself into mortal peril all on his own, I'm sure. You just make certain to get him back."

"We might be able to help with that," comes a _third_ voice.

"Josie?!" Cecil exclaims. "How many of you are there right now?"

"Uh… eight, including me," Dana answers, in the tone of someone trying to keep a handle on a situation that is rapidly spiralling out of control. "Caitlin, Janice, Tamika Flynn, Old Woman Josie, John Peters – you know, the farmer? – Pamela Winchell and Trish Hidge… oh, and Larry Leroy will be here soon, he's arranging transport right now."

It's hard to work out which of the ten thousand questions to voice first, but at least Cecil is better at this than Carlos, who is currently staring at the phone in shock.

"…Well, hi everyone," Cecil manages. "I… sorry about the whole running-off thing. It got a bit out of hand…"

"These things usually do with you," Old Woman Josie replies, though warmly.

"So… wait, you said the Mayor was with you?" Cecil now asks, as his mind catches up.

There's a very odd silence.

"Uhm… Cecil, see, that's sort of the thing…" Dana answers, a very odd tone to her voice. "Events have… well, events have been happening, and… I… look. Long story short, you missed the Mayoral Election."

"We did?" Cecil replies. "I… oh. Yesterday was the Fifteenth. So we did. So who won? Hiram McDaniels or the Faceless Old Woman?"

"…Neither," says a voice that is unmistakeably Pamela Winchell, and though she doesn't sound happy, there's an edge of triumph to her tone nonetheless. "Hidden Gorge apparently had other ideas."

"So who..?" Cecil starts out, but he's interrupted by a soft voice from the other end of the line; a voice apparently speaking quickly before it loses its nerve.

"…Me," whispers Dana Cardinal.

Cecil stares at the phone. Kevin actually applauds. And Carlos? All of a sudden, Carlos finds himself cheering with joy. "Of course!" he exclaims. "Oh Dana, that's wonderful!"

Has Night Vale ever had a sane mayor? Carlos isn't sure. He's confident they've never had such a morally _good_ one before, though.

"…Hey, Carlos," Dana says. "And… ah… thanks, I guess. I still haven't taken it in. I've only been home a few weeks and all of a sudden… this."

"Dana, you're going to be amazing," Cecil tells her, in that certain, level voice he uses when he _really_ means it. "Of that, I have no doubt. Although… I imagine Hiram and the Faceless Old Woman were less pleased..?"

"…You got that right," Dana murmurs. "The Faceless Old Woman may have said something about a plague of never-ending electrical faults and Hiram _definitely_ said something about vengeful fire from the skies, and… Cecil, I'm not going to lie to you, I'm concerned. You know them both, can you… can you talk to them for me? You know, when you get back?"

"Of course," Cecil promises. "I got to know them pretty well during the campaign. I'm sure I can calm them down."

Carlos is a little less sure, but at least the certainty in Cecil's voice seems to help Dana.

"OK," she says, taking a deep breath. It's hard to imagine Dana Cardinal as anything less than serene and sure… but, at the same time, Carlos can imagine that suddenly being named mayor would be enough to throw pretty much anyone. "OK. Thank you. So… Cecil, you missed a lot. Even leaving aside the Mayoral Election… the end of last week was weird. To put it mildly."

"What happened?" Cecil asks.

Dana gives a soft little sigh and Carlos immediately starts to worry more. Just what else have they missed?

"Well… it all started early on Friday morning," Dana begins. "It was Friday the Thirteenth, so everyone was a bit on edge because of course strange things always happen on Friday the Thirteenth."

"Of course," Cecil agrees, without hesitation, and Carlos opts not to question it.

"Only this time… it was way more strange than usual," Dana goes on. "Around mid-morning, Fey started broadcasting across dozens of frequencies simultaneously."

"More numbers?" Cecil asks.

"Not exactly," Dana replies. "She said…"

_"One beats on,_  
 _One beats anew,_  
 _Twin are the hearts,_  
 _Twin are the towns,_  
 _Three days to stop the rise,_  
 _Or all will fall down."_

This is met with a rather alarmed silence.

"We didn't know what was happening," Dana continues, after a moment. "Fey didn't know where the new prophecy had come from, or what it meant, and none of us could work it out. Then… then things started getting _really_ weird. The scientists started picking up tremors from beneath Night Vale, over and over, getting stronger and stronger until everyone in town could feel them. And that… Cecil, that wasn't all. The next day, it got worse. People started behaving strangely – I mean _really_ strangely – and reporting having had graphic and… and frankly _disturbing_ dreams. And then _yesterday_ …"

"…Blood," Carlos whispers, softly, understanding. "There was blood. Right?"

"Right," Dana replies. "How did you..?"

"Just a guess," Carlos says, although of course it is much more than a guess. "And would I be right in thinking that everything got worse and worse until last night… when it all stopped abruptly?"

Everyone on his side of the call is now looking at him in realisation, though it's obviously going to take a little more explanation for those on Dana's side. "Yes," she answers. "We wondered if it was something to do with the election; if… if that's why Hidden Gorge had reached the decision it did. Midway through yesterday afternoon… the tremors got worse. The _blood_ got worse. People… people started fighting, and… and _smiling_. And everyone in town could hear a strange humming that never went away, but which was clearly growing louder and louder and then… last night, very suddenly, it all just… stopped. Do you know what happened?"

"Yes," Carlos replies. "Dana… whilst we've been here, we've been trying to destroy an object at the centre of Desert Bluffs. A mystical rock of immense psychic power, which we believe has been affecting the people of Desert Bluffs for decades. A rock called the Bloodstone."

"Bloodstone?" Dana repeats. "But… we have dozens of those in Night Vale."

"You have dozens of objects you call bloodstone _s_ ," Kevin chips in. "They're… forgive me… shallow approximations in comparison. Their extra-planar and psychic powers are limited at best. But _the_ Bloodstone… was rather more potent. For the last week, Strexcorp has been using the people of Desert Bluffs to increase the Bloodstone's power, with the intent of awakening a second one. A second Bloodstone…"

"…buried under Night Vale," Old Woman Josie interrupts, as if everything suddenly makes sense. "Masters of us all. I hoped I'd never see this day."

"You… know about it?" Cecil asks, incredulous.

"Oh yes," Josie replies. "There is rather more going on here than you realise. I'll explain when we see you. But for now… what happened to the primary Bloodstone? The one in Desert Bluffs?"

"It's gone," Carlos answers. "We destroyed it last night."

"With _science!_ " Frederick adds.

"Finally, some good news!" Josie says. "Are we to take it that's why the tremors in Night Vale have stopped?"

"Yes," Carlos tells her. "Now that the main Bloodstone has been destroyed, the one under Night Vale should remain dormant, so long as it isn't exposed to sunlight."

"But this isn't over," comes the soft, certain voice of Tamika Flynn.

"No," Cecil answers. "This isn't over. The Bloodstone is gone, but Desert Bluffs is far from free… and that's why we made that broadcast. The people here… aren't the rivals we thought they were. They're… us. Us, through a different lens. And we need to help them."

Kevin grips his hand at that and, despite everything, Cecil smiles at him.

"Well, you could've planned it a bit better!" Josie now exclaims. "Everyone's spent a week thinking you were dead – or worse – and then on top of that we were concerned the world was ending!"

"They're _really_ bad at revolutions," Kevin points out, helpfully.

"Look," Dana says, in a tone of voice that makes Carlos confident she'll be a very good mayor, "we're coming out there. We need to decide on somewhere to meet. Ideally somewhere that our old friends from Strexcorp won't notice us straight away. Oh, and somewhere we can hide the helicopters."

"Helicopters?!" Cecil exclaims.

"What, did you think we'd just hire a minibus?" Pamela cuts across, dryly. "We have a team of teenage paramilitaries on our side. We're bringing helicopters."

It's at this point that Naomi facepalms. "That isn't exactly subtle," she points out.

"They're former Strexcorp helicopters so they won't notice straight away," Dana replies. "Also… who are you?"

"I'm the one facilitating all this," Naomi answers, very coolly. "Naomi Hartley. Lauren Mallard's younger sister."

There's a very awkward silence.

"…Hartley," Josie replies. "As in… _Derek_ Hartley?"

Naomi gives a little sigh. "Yep."

"You're the younger daughter of the _head of Strexcorp?_ " John Peters exclaims.

"Yep," Naomi says again. "Well, the _former_ head. And yes, before you ask, Lauren is _now_ the head of Strexcorp and would sorely love to kill us all. Horribly, if possible."

"…Cecil, are you sure this is a good idea?" Dana asks, softly, almost as if the two of them were having a separate conversation away from the crowd of people on either end of the line.

"More so than you might think," Cecil replies. "Naomi is an old friend of Kevin's, and she's saved us more than once since we got here. So… you don't need to worry. None of you need to worry. Or, not about this, at least."

"So… one of the heirs of Strexcorp has turned against them?"

"Yes."

"And you're staging a revolution together?"

"Yes."

"Cecil… this is all getting a bit _Game of Thrones_."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," Cecil replies. "Wait 'til we tell you about Lauren and Kevin!"

"…Oh my," Dana exclaims. "Really?"

"Well, no, but at the same time yes, and…" Cecil trails off, seeing the look he's getting from Kevin. "…I'll tell you all about it when you get here."

"I look forward to it," Dana replies. "I think."

"…You realise this conversation would be _much_ easier in person?" Carlos points out, a little dizzy from trying to keep up with it.

"Very true," Dana agrees. "Where can we meet you?"

"That depends," Naomi says, and from the look in her eyes, she's just had an idea. "How many helicopters are you bringing?"

"Three," comes Tamika's response. "Why?"

"I have a proposition," Naomi goes on. "We've been staying in a safehouse, but – because of Steve's abduction – we need to move. I was going to take us to another place I have, but we don't have space to house all of you, which would mean I'd need to split us between two sites. There is, however, another option. My residence, on the outskirts of town, has sufficient room for all of us, but now that Lauren knows about my involvement, it isn't exactly _secret_ , and I wasn't willing to risk staying there when she might send teams of enforcers after us. But that would be less of a problem, if…"

"…you had helicopters watching your back," Tamika surmises.

"Yes," Naomi answers. "I can base us all there, but only if you and your allies are willing to provide round-the-clock defence."

"Take out any Strex drones who come near _our_ allies?" Tamika says, her usual cool and emotionless tone betraying a flicker of relish at the thought. "I think we can manage that."

Naomi smiles. "Then we have a plan. Look for a large estate on the north-eastern edge of Desert Bluffs. Big house at the top of a hill. Only one in the area. You can't miss it. We'll meet you there."

"Lauren might have left enforcers watching the place," Kevin points out, and then – seeing the way Naomi's expression lights up – he smiles too. "Which you're hoping for, of course. Me too, in fact…"

Darn it, that tone is distracting.

"Well, I guess we'll see you in a couple of hours," Dana says.

"I can't wait," Cecil tells her.

And – finally – they end the call.

" _Well_ ," Darla begins, after a moment. " _That_ was unexpected."

"Good news, though," Naomi adds. "It means the broadcast got through. It means… this is working."

"And," Kevin adds, drawing his knife and pointedly tracing along the edge of it, "this means we have plenty of people to aid us in getting Steve back. Because we're going to, Cecil. I promise you. We're going to get him back."

And it is hard to argue with determination like that.

***

It's late afternoon by the time they return to Naomi's estate.

Everyone goes together, although Naomi leaves most of them waiting in the van at the bottom of the hill, taking Darla and Kevin up with her to sweep the area for enforcers. Carlos can't help a flare of worry as the three head off, but it's hard to say what alarms him more: the danger that could be awaiting them up there, or the risk that Kevin is going to come back covered in blood again.

It's the latter that turns out to be more of an issue. When the three of them finally return… they've been gone a while. And, from the state of them, they've been busy.

"…I'm confident you do this on purpose," Cecil mutters, as Kevin hops into the van, slipping his knife away with a distractingly cheery smile.

His double shrugs. "Guilty as charged," he replies, evidently seeing no reason to deny it (or, at least, no possibility of making such a denial sound even vaguely plausible). "But, hey, on the positive side, the estate is safe now."

Securing the place is the next crucial step. Quite a few of Naomi's personal enforcers have long since run for it; evidently deciding it would be better to throw themselves on Strexcorp's mercy and insist they knew nothing of their employer's plans. Carlos can't help wondering if any of them survived the process.

He doubts it.

The enforcers who _haven't_ run for it are waiting at the front of the house as they drive up: six in total – four women and two men – appearing a mixture of alarmed, hopeful, and flat-out in denial. Naomi looks them over and then starts issuing orders, sending them all off to watch different points on the estate's perimeter – accompanied by a clear idea of the benefits of staying loyal to her.

But from the expressions on their faces – alarm, hope and denial aside – it's obvious that, if they were going to run, they'd already be gone.

The house is just as it was when they left two days ago, and in the strangest way Carlos is glad to be back. Once they're settled, Naomi and Darla suddenly go weirdly domestic and start trying to work out how many guest beds they can arrange, and it's certainly odd watching someone go from talking about where they've stashed the bodies of the dead enforcers to worrying about a shortage of bed linen in the same sentence.

As the sun sinks towards the horizon – and it seems like an age since Carlos last saw a real sunset – Cecil's phone buzzes. It's a single text message, from Dana: _'Look up'_.

And Carlos can hear the rumbling now: the thrum of helicopter blades. Everyone heads outside in time to see a trio of choppers circling around, coming in to land one by one on the helipad opposite the driveway. The sight of them – even despite the past connotations – provokes more than a few smiles, because here is Night Vale's victory in helicopter form: three once-yellow craft still covered in dents and scrapes, with their old Strexcorp emblems scratched off and painted over with vivid purple eyes.

The side doors of the helicopters slide open as the blades above begin to slow, and a collection of familiar faces start to emerge, and… OK, this is actually happening. Maybe on some level Carlos hasn't engaged with it – _really_ engaged with it – until now.

But here they are. Dana is the first to step out, her dark eyes registering obvious shock at what she's seeing; at the realisation that Desert Bluffs _actually_ looks like this. It's an expression that most of her companions mirror in one way or another; everyone save for Tamika (who isn't rattled by anything) and Josie, who – Carlos knows – has been here before.

It's clear that a number of them are eager to say something and – wisely – Naomi catches on. "Welcome to Desert Bluffs," she says. "It might be best we head inside. If nothing else, I imagine some of you will find it a more comfortable setting for conversation."

No one objects, so they all head into the hallway, and… wow, but what a collection they make. Everyone from their earlier phone conversation is here: Dana, Josie, Caitlin, John, Tamika and Pamela, along with a shorter blonde woman whom Carlos guesses must be Trish Hidge, Pamela's chief advisor… former chief advisor… one of those. Then there's Janice, with three other young people lurking close to her: Paige and Hannah, who Carlos recognises from the revolution in Night Vale, along with a boy about their age who Hannah introduces as Victor. And then bringing up the rear is Larry Leroy, managing his usual trick of looking more competent than most other people around.

Well. Well. All of them. All of them here. This is either a good idea or a very, _very_ bad one.

Almost at once, Caitlin breaks away from the group, hurries over to her brother, and hugs him tight. She seems like she's considering hitting him first, but somehow manages not to, though there's quite a look in her eyes when she pulls back.

"You ran off to Desert Bluffs!" she exclaims. "You ran off to Desert Bluffs without telling anyone and then you lured Steve off after you and… and! And! Cecil Gershwin Palmer, are you _completely_ insane?!"

"…I'm starting to think I might be close," Cecil concedes. "But, Caitlin, I promise you, I never meant to put Steve in this much danger…"

"Of course you didn't," Caitlin replies. "He can manage that part on his own!"

"Although… you did come out here after us," Cecil points out, looking like he's wholly unsure if he can get away with it or not.

Caitlin narrows her eyes in an expression alarmingly akin to the one that Steve often favours. "Yes," she replies, firmly. "Yes, I did. I'm not leaving you or Steve to do this on your own. Plus, Janice insisted that she was coming out here with Tamika no matter _what_ I said," – evidently another point of contention – "and I wasn't going to leave my daughter to do this on her own either."

" _Mom_ ," Janice says, "I'm _thirteen_ and I flew a helicopter during the Battle of Night Vale!"

"Maybe so, young lady, but if you're here, I'm here."

Janice scowls, and exchanges an odd little look with Gillian, who has been watching this discussion in obvious interest, and… yes. Yes. There's definitely going to be an alliance-of-doubles there.

It's now that Kirsten takes a step closer to Caitlin, looking at her own double. "…OK, this is weird," she says, glancing over at her brother but quickly returning her attention to the woman in front of her.

"Glad I'm not the only one thinking as much," Caitlin replies. "You're… me. But not me. But…" She also glances at her brother. "Cecil, was it like this when you first..?"

Cecil actually goes a little pink, and Kevin's expression becomes suddenly wry. "Oh no, it was different for us," he answers, when Cecil seems unable to. "I mean, neither of you has tried to strangle the other, so you're already doing better…"

He gives Cecil a sweetly-innocent look that isn't fooling anybody, and gets a narrowed one – that also isn't fooling anybody – in return.

Caitlin and Kirsten exchange a look of their own. "We should talk later," Caitlin says. "When we're done working out just what insanity our brothers have dragged us into this time. Although… is this the first time for you?"

Kirsten nods. "Yeah."

"I'm not sure whether to be sympathetic or jealous…"

This gets them a pair of flat looks from their brothers, though – like before – they're not fooling anybody.

" _So_ ," says Josie, in a firm, sensible tone, her expression squarely on Naomi, "you're Derek Hartley's daughter."

Naomi nods. "Yes. The younger one."

Darla nudges her wife in the side. "The _rebellious_ one."

This makes Josie smile a little. "So I'm gathering. And you?"

"I'm Darla. Darla Hartley." She grins broadly. "Naomi's missus."

Naomi grips her wife's hand. "My other half."

"Don't you mean your _better_ half?"

"…Darla…"

"…Sorry, Nay."

But, as ever, she doesn't look it.

Re-composing herself, Naomi returns her attention to Josie. "You say my father's name like you knew him."

"You don't miss a trick, do you?" Josie answers. "Well, you're right. Part-right, at least. I never knew him personally, but the Battle of Night Vale was by no means my first encounter with the man."

"Is that why you already knew about the Bloodstones?" Carlos asks, his mind gradually putting all this together.

Josie nods. "I see you're still the smart one. Yes. Yes, it is."

"But… people forget about it. Them," Kevin reasons, looking confused. "On some level, even _I_ did, when I was in Night Vale."

"Most people forget," Josie answers. "I'm… well, dear. I'm a little bit special."

"And you've been here before," Carlos points out. "You told us, the night we escaped from that Strex prison. You said you were here when you were a teenager. You said it was back in…"

And then it dawns. "…in 1953."

Now Josie smiles. "Quite right. I suppose… I suppose I can trust present company with the truth. In 1953, when I was thirteen – much like these bright young people with us now – I found myself caught up in events that very few still remember. It started with the Night Vale Summer Reading Programme, and it ended… well. It ended with us managing to bury the second Bloodstone deep below Night Vale, but being too late to prevent the one in Desert Bluffs from becoming more powerful than we were able to deal with. I'd put together a group of my fellow students and book-lovers, and we allied with a similar group from Desert Bluffs. And we saved Night Vale. But… we couldn't save Desert Bluffs. Derek Hartley and his people were too much for us, and once they had their Bloodstone sufficiently powered up, and the newly-formed Strexcorp at their beck and call… they were unstoppable. All we could do was bid farewell to our allies whilst… whilst they still remembered who we were, and retreat back to Night Vale."

By now, everyone is staring at her: even Tamika Flynn, who takes a step forward. "You were the leader of the Fifty-Three Book Club?" she asks, and there's a genuine flicker of surprise in her voice.

Josie nods. "Yes. Yes, I was."

"So… what, does that make me your present-day counterpart or something?"

This gets her a soft little laugh. "Well, dear, that would be rather more ominous and mysterious than we usually get around here, wouldn't it?"

"Meaning?" Tamika pushes, pointedly.

"Meaning… just because you helped save Night Vale, it doesn't mean you're done being special. You never stop being special."

"I'm not special," Tamika insists. "I'm just a good student who loves books."

"And who defeated a librarian single-handed," Paige points out.

"And led the youth militia against Strexcorp," Hannah adds.

"And who taught us all to fly helicopters," Janice continues.

"And you can do all that kung-fu stuff…" Victor says.

Tamika looks sideways at him. "Victor. That isn't kung-fu. That is the basics of literary theory!"

Carlos suppresses a giggle.

"Does literary theory usually involve throwing-stars?" Victor asks.

"It does when I do it," is Tamika's only reply, before she turns pointedly back to Josie. "So you're implying there's some element of _destiny_ at work here?"

"There is often some element of destiny at work," Josie replies. "Sometimes you get helpful prophecies from the local numbers station to back it up. And sometimes… sometimes you just have to go with your gut."

"…That being said," Dana cuts in, cautiously, "we do sort of have another of those prophecies as well. Fey started broadcasting it just as we were preparing to come out here."

"She did?" Cecil says, sounding surprised. "What was it?"

"I managed to record this one," Larry tells them. "Hold on…"

He pulls out his phone, taps it a few times, then frowns at it and taps it again. "Sorry. These touch-screen thingies are so very… aha. Yes. Here we go…"

And, from the phone in Larry's hand, Fey's voice cuts the air.

_"Seven who form the infinite sign,_  
 _Six all crying 'vengeance mine',_  
 _Five on high in deadly light,_  
 _Four of whom to face and fight,_  
 _Three still key forever more,_  
 _Two with knowledge to adore,_  
 _One who heard the hidden call,_  
 _None can rise 'til dark can fall."_

There's a long silence.

"…You know what all that is referring to, right?" Kevin asks, looking at everyone but especially his two boyfriends. "I mean, you did this last time around."

"It wasn't exactly a quick process," Cecil replies. "Some of it fell into place relatively easily. Other parts… I guess we didn't completely understand them until it was all over."

"I get the first part, though," Carlos says, with a little smile. " _'Seven who form the infinite sign'_? If you take the _'four who surround'_ from Night Vale, and their doubles – or not, in Steve's case – and put them together…"

He draws it out in mid-air: three points surrounding an imaginary Night Vale and three surrounding an imaginary Desert Bluffs, with Steve as the midpoint, completing both circles.

"That's a figure-eight," says Pamela, arms folded, looking like she's well-aware of being a newcomer to all this and clearly trying not to seem confused by it.

"Yes, it is," Carlos agrees. "It's also the infinity symbol, albeit rotated through ninety degrees. I think we were half-right from the very beginning: we _do_ need to unite the doubles of the four who saved Night Vale. But we also need to unite them _with_ their doubles. We need all seven."

"And that poses us a problem," Naomi cuts in, smoothly. Diplomatically.

"You're going to get my husband back, right?" Caitlin asks immediately, halfway between fierce and frightened. "You're going to get him back before Strex can…" She trails off at that, looking a little distraught, and Cecil quickly moves to put an arm around her.

"Yes," he tells her. "Yes, we're going to get Steve back."

"Cecil's right," Naomi agrees. "We are, and we're going to make my _wretched_ sister pay for taking him in the first place. But… that wasn't actually the problem I meant. Maybe… this would be easier if we explained exactly what's been going on."

It's certainly a good thing Naomi has a large living room. She and Darla shepherd everyone through and sit them down, and then – bit by bit – the group who have been in Desert Bluffs for the last week tell the newcomers everything that's been happening.

It's the first time Carlos has really gone over it all, and it's an odd set of experiences to re-live. For the most part, he lets one or more of the others relate everything – chipping in as needed to explain the science – although he pretty much has to take the lead when it comes to covering the time loop. And that… well. He's not at all sure he could have done that without both of his boyfriends sitting close; Cecil gripping his arm and Kevin keeping a hand on his shoulder.

The newcomers go particularly quiet at that part. Even Tamika looks a little horrified, and Caitlin seems borderline distraught at the idea of her brother being killed, albeit temporarily. Carlos feels rather guilty about inflicting the story on her whilst she's still worried about her husband, but he can't really avoid it all the same.

Aside from Steve's abduction, the recent news is a little better, and the section about the _actual_ destruction of the Bloodstone provokes more than a few smiles, not to mention Paige and Hannah quietly high-fiving in the background. When the story is finally up to date, Naomi sits forward, looking solemn.

"You see the problem now?"

Appropriately, it's Larry who replies. "Yes," he says, and there's an unusual solemnity to his tone as well. "My double, Lawrence. He's one of the seven, but it sounds as though he's firmly in Strexcorp's camp."

Naomi nods. "For the moment, yes. But… I think I may have a solution. Moreover, it's a solution that might lead to us getting Steve back as well, and I'm all for killing two birds with one stone."

"I did that once," Darla remarks, wistfully. "Darned hawks interrupting my ritual…"

Perhaps mercifully, no one opts to question this.

" _Anyway_ ," Naomi goes on, trying to keep things on track, "I have something in mind. It's something I've been considering since I first found out Lawrence had betrayed us. I'd… need a little help…"

She's looking at Kevin now, which means _everyone_ is looking at Kevin. And Kevin is very good at being the centre of attention. "Me?" he says, with a bright smile. "What do you need me to do?"

"You know Lawrence," Naomi says. "The two of you used to be on very good terms. I want to exploit that. I also want to make use of some of your more… _specialised_ talents…"

Kevin's smile somehow gets brighter and _darker_ at the same time. "Whatever do you mean?" he asks, though it's clear he knows _precisely_ what she means.

Carlos is certainly confident that _he_ does. And it's making concentration difficult.

"You _know_ what I mean," Naomi answers, mirroring Kevin's alarmingly sweet tone. "And you've been thinking the same thing, Kevin. Don't forget: I know you."

"Yeah, what _is_ the whole deal with you two?" asks Trish Hidge. She's been very quiet thus far, but apparently this question is more than she can keep a lid on.

"Oh, they're gay besties," Frederick cuts in, before anyone else can speak.

This gets him a narrowed look from Naomi.

"What?" Frederick insists, calmly. "You so are! Anyway, Carlos thinks it's adorable."

"Frederick!" Carlos hisses, blushing.

Cecil facepalms. "I'm sorry, this happens a lot," he says, to Trish in particular and the room in general.

"I can see that!" Trish agrees, grinning. "Well, _I_ think it's cute."

"I don't do cute," Naomi insists.

"Says the woman who inflicted _The Notebook_ on me!" Kevin exclaims, perhaps without thinking first because he promptly goes pink.

"At least I'm not the one who _cried_ through half of it!" Naomi retorts.

" _I am getting you two a ring of jello!_ " Cecil cuts in, in his most authoritative tone, which somehow makes both Kevin and Naomi fall silent, and _definitely_ makes Carlos lose all hope of concentration.

There's an odd little pause.

"All done now?" Frederick asks, brightly.

Naomi shoots him something of a glare.

"…Shall we focus?" Josie suggests, very calmly (albeit with a little smile that implies she's probably enjoying herself all the same).

"Yes," Naomi answers, before anyone else can get a word in. "Yes, we shall. _As I was saying_ , I want to exploit the past history between Kevin and Lawrence. And I think – if we can pull this off – we can work it to our advantage twice-over. What I'm proposing is this: we take a page from Strex's book."

"…Not from the Handbook?" Kevin asks, with a suddenly arched expression. "You know my feelings on that thing."

"It is very… dry," Tamika remarks.

"You've _read_ the Strexcorp Handbook?" Cecil exclaims.

Tamika nods.

"But… why?! With all the books in the world to choose from, why that?"

" _Know your enemy_ ," is all Tamika will say in response to this, though she has a good point.

 _Rather you than me, though,_ Carlos thinks to himself.

"So, go on then," Cecil prompts. "Which page from that… monstrosity… are you talking about?"

Naomi smiles. "The one – actually there's quite a number, but just go with the metaphor – about how Strex deals with employees who exhibit _unproductive_ behaviour…"

" _Naomi_ ," Kevin replies, expression lighting up, "are you suggesting we _abduct_ Lawrence Lavene and… _persuade_ him to see things our way?"

"Yes, Kevin," Naomi answers. "That is _precisely_ what I am suggesting. I want to pull off a good old fashioned abduction, stick Lawrence in a dark room with you, and wait for you to change his mind about a few things."

The room goes very quiet. "…You want Kevin to _torture my double?_ " Larry asks, finally.

"No," Naomi says. "I want Kevin to… _persuade_ your double to realise the error of his ways and defect back to the winning side."

Now _that's_ corporate-speak if ever Carlos heard it. He just hopes it won't involve blue sky thinking. Blue sky thinking sounds like it would be a very bad concept in Desert Bluffs.

"I see," Larry replies, levelly. "Well, then. Can I help?"

Everyone stares at him.

"…I'm sorry, did you just ask if you could _help?_ " Kevin exclaims.

Larry shrugs. "Sure I did. I mean, I'm his double. That means I'll be able to read him like no one else – even you. No offence. But you're going to need a good cop, right? Someone who can get inside this guy's head and play him?"

"…Well, yes, actually," Kevin replies, now looking at Larry with his head on one side, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. "You've done this before?"

"I watch a lot of detective shows," Larry says… although there's something oddly flat about his tone that suggests this is not the whole truth.

"You can do it just from watching detective shows?" Cecil asks, sounding unconvinced. "Because, from where I'm sitting, it almost seems like you might have had some previous involvement with… well. You know."

Larry's expression goes as level as his tone. "It could look that way. Of course, I could neither confirm nor deny any such implication, nor a potential past affiliation with any group, vague or otherwise. I can, however, help with this plan of yours. On account of all the detective shows."

"…Right," Kevin says. "The 'detective shows'. Right."

"…But how does this help us get Steve back?" Caitlin cuts in.

"That's the next part," Naomi tells her. "Once we have Lawrence, we arrange to trade him for Steve. Lauren has to want Lawrence back as soon as possible, and I'd bet my half of Dad's will that she'll agree to a swap because Lawrence in our hands is way more dangerous to her than having to give up Steve. We can make the swap either way but, if Kevin and Larry can get through to Lawrence, we can go one better. If Lawrence can be persuaded to join our side… we can send him back to Lauren to spy on _her_. And I like the audacity of that more than a little."

"Me too," Kevin agrees.

"So… are we all in favour?" Naomi asks, looking around at everyone.

There are no objections. Some slightly alarmed expressions, yes, but no objections.

And one thing is certain: now things are _really_ getting serious.


	16. Somewhere Deeper

_When you fall asleep with your head upon my shoulder_  
_When you're in my arms but you've gone somewhere deeper…_  
_When oblivion is calling out your name_  
_You always take it further than I ever can_

~ Bastille: _'Oblivion'_

***

Carlos awakes with a jump.

It's the middle of the night. He can hear the distant thrum of one of the helicopters, guarding Naomi's estate from any Strexcorp interlopers, and it is a definite reassurance to know that Tamika Flynn – or one of her allies – is keeping watch on them.

Weird, to be reliant on a group of teenagers. But, then again, a lot less weird than it used to be.

And they are the most competent ones here. Except, perhaps, for Naomi.

Carlos doesn't have long to muse on this, however, because he's immediately aware of a more pressing issue:

He's alone. _Both_ of his boyfriends are gone.

It's probably nothing to worry about. They're safe in the house, with its youth militia guardians, and if for some reason they _weren't_ safe, he'd likely be able to tell by now. On the other hand… waking up to find _both_ of them gone is unusual.

Carlos debates whether or not to go looking for them. If there was a problem, he's confident they would have woken him too. Maybe… maybe they just can't sleep, and have wandered off to talk, so as not to disturb him.

Maybe they're…

…oh, he's definitely going to have to go look.

Slipping out of bed, Carlos paces over to the door and edges it open. The hallway beyond is quiet, with moonlight playing across the carpet from the uncurtained window at the far end, but there's no sign of anyone. Heading out, he walks over to the stairs and down to the ground floor… and that's when he catches the voices.

They're soft, but unmistakeable. Padding cautiously across the hall, Carlos steps up to the door leading into the main living room. It's only half-open, but wide enough that he can stand close to it, looking through into the space beyond – and with the added bonus that it won't be easy for anyone in there to spot him, so long as he's quiet.

From where he is, he can see both his boyfriends, on the couch closest to the curtained front window. Cecil is sitting back, with Kevin on top of him, straddling his lap and staring down into his double's eyes.

Carlos' breath catches. They look so damnably _perfect_ like that.

"…and I know it would work," Kevin is saying, soft and sure.

"You're right," Cecil agrees, a hand on the side of his double's face – although what he's agreeing with is impossible to tell. "I know you are. You were before. And… you know I trust you."

Carlos can't quite see Kevin's face, but there's an obvious smile in his voice as he speaks – though it's more of a hopeful smile as opposed to his usual wicked one. "I do," he replies. "I trust you too."

Cecil pulls Kevin in closer and kisses him, slow and careful, and the sight is so breathlessly wonderful that Carlos finds himself gripping the doorframe to keep himself upright.

"I still can't believe we got this far," Kevin says, when the kiss breaks, and the two of them are resting forehead-to-forehead. "I thought–"

"I know what you thought," Cecil cuts in, softly. "I know. But you were wrong, Kevin. And for once in your life… you should accept it."

"For once in my life… I'm happy to."

They kiss again, and the sight is so wonderful that Carlos wants to burst into the room. To ask them – _beg_ them – to let him join in. But at the same time… interrupting this wouldn't be right.

And he's rewarded for his patience after a moment, as Cecil takes firm hold of Kevin and flips him gently down onto his back on the couch, sliding into place on top of him and kissing him some more, over and over.

" _Ohyes_ ," Kevin breathes, as the last kiss breaks, which gets him another smile from Cecil in return.

"You see?" Cecil says. "Don't doubt this. Don't doubt yourself. And don't doubt what we're doing. Desert Bluffs is going to be free, Kevin. It's going to be free… and a large part of that will be because of you."

"I… never dared to hope that…"

"That what? That this could happen? I think you did. From what Naomi said the other night… I think you dared to hope it plenty of times. The only difference is that now there's no one to stop you from _making_ it happen."

"…No. The difference is that now I have the two of you."

And that's a lovely thing to hear. Cecil certainly thinks so, as he leans in for another round of kissing, and Carlos – observing from where he is – has to agree as well.

But there's more to it than that, he realises, watching as Cecil pulls back from the kiss, hand on the side of Kevin's face again, staring down into his double's eyes. Watching as Kevin stares back, a strange mixture of hope and vulnerability in his own expression that Carlos is confident no one but them has ever seen.

A few nights ago, Kevin said that Carlos likes Cecil because Cecil makes him feel safe, and that he likes Kevin because Kevin _doesn't_ … and there's a lot of truth in that. A _lot_ … some of it – much of it – not yet fully engaged with. But it doesn't just work in his case. Carlos sees that now. He understands, as he watches the way Kevin is staring up at Cecil, as he realises that look – though shared with both of them – is actually meant for Cecil alone.

Kevin likes Carlos because Carlos lets him be bad. And he likes Cecil… because Cecil lets him be _good_.

And that… well. Perhaps he'd forgotten how. Or perhaps… perhaps he'd just forgotten that he _could_. And if they've helped him remember, if… if _Cecil_ has helped him remember… that's a victory no one could take away.

Carlos smiles to himself. It's a strange kind of triumph.

But that doesn't make it any less real.

***

The following morning opens with the breakfast to end all breakfasts. Despite there being twenty of them in total, Naomi somehow manages to provide enough food for everyone. The meal itself is so like a bizarre board meeting that Carlos half expects someone to get up and give a presentation on the relative merits of white versus brown toast but – mercifully – no one does.

Once breakfast is concluded, they start to disperse. Tamika, Paige, Hannah and Victor go off to ensure the estate is defended – Tamika isn't happy about leaving it in the hands of Naomi's personal enforcers, even for a short time – and Naomi, Darla, Kevin and Larry disappear into Naomi's study to plot how best to get hold of Lawrence Lavene without bringing half of Strexcorp down on their heads all at once.

Everyone else pretty much has to keep themselves occupied for now, though they disperse into smaller groups around the house, which at least means that the conversations are a little less dizzying. Carlos ends up in the main living room, sitting with Cecil, who has clearly been waiting all morning to get some time with Dana. The woman herself sits curled on the armchair nearest to them, and – oddly – Pamela Winchell and Trish Hidge take the couch opposite.

The only other people in the room are Janice and Gillian. Neither of them says a word – on the contrary, they're sitting on separate couches facing away from each other – but Carlos has the oddest sense that the constant tapping away on their smartphones is evidence of the two young doubles being engaged in rapid conversation.

"So… ah… I have a question," Cecil is saying to Dana, pulling Carlos' mind back to the conversation in hand. "It's for all three of you, actually. I understand why you're involved in this, Dana, but…"

He looks pointedly at Pamela. "Why am I here?" she asks, catching on.

"Yes."

Pamela glances at Dana. "I'm protecting my successor," she answers, though it's a politician's response through and through. "And Trish is my PA."

"PA-slash-advisor-slash-bodyguard!" Trish elaborates, brightly. "Not to mention I'm a top-notch denialist. But I'll hold back on that for now, of course."

"They both turned up on my doorstep, right after the election result was announced," Dana clarifies. "I was a bit taken aback, but they said they wanted to help."

"And we do," Pamela insists. "I'm not going to pretend it was all altruistic. Seeing Hidden Gorge wrong-foot _both_ of the candidates running for my job… well, I enjoyed that."

"They threatened my life!" Dana exclaims.

"Yes, they did," Pamela replies, idly. "But that's just good politics. I figured if you were going to do this, you'd need advice from someone who's _done_ it. Plus, I wanted one last round of excitement before I retire."

"You're retiring?" Cecil asks.

Pamela nods. "When all this is over. I'll be announcing the details in a press conference, of course. But for now… my focus is on the _new_ mayor of Night Vale."

Carlos is confident there's still more to it, though opts not to ask.

"So… Dana," Cecil goes on, evidently trying to get the conversation back on track. "Walk me through this. What actually happened with the election?"

Dana sits forward a little, hands clasped around one knee. "Well, it… it was a very chaotic day. Everything was in uproar because of all the weird stuff that was going on, and the town was close to breaking point. I'm not sure the election would even have gone ahead if it wasn't all unstoppable to begin with. So… so the candidates each did a final piece on air – Maureen has been running the show whilst you and Kevin have been missing, which has been… a bit of an experience for her – and then the voting took place. I didn't think we'd even get as far as a result, given all the fights that were breaking out, and all… all the blood, and the tremors, and… Cecil, it was _very_ unsettling."

He nods, understandingly. "I know," he replies. "If we'd realised, if we'd thought… we might have been able to warn you."

"I'm not sure we would," Carlos reminds him. "From the sound of things, all cellphone communication in and out of Desert Bluffs was blocked shortly after Steve and Frederick got here."

"Probably on Lauren's orders," Cecil says. "Lawrence must have warned her we were starting to smuggle people over. Well. Sorry, Dana, do go on."

"So… evening finally came and Night Vale was in chaos, and then… then the election result was revealed," Dana continues. She still looks genuinely shaken by the memory. "I remember listening as Maureen read it out. I… for a moment, I didn't know what to do. And then… then Hiram and the Faceless Old Woman started… started making their displeasure clear. They came and found me, and… certain threats were made, and… then they disappeared. They said I had forty-eight hours to put it right, or… or there would be consequences. And then, before I knew it, all the tremors had stopped and everything was… just _normal_ again. And _then_ …"

"…You heard our broadcast," Cecil reasons.

Dana nods. "Yes. And the moment it went out… Cecil, everyone started descending on my place, like I was somehow the leader of all this. Even people like Josie, like _Tamika_ , they just…"

Cecil smiles. "Dana, I know it must have been a shock, but… you're going to be amazing. You'll see that eventually. It's just that everyone else already did. That's why they came to you: because you're their mayor now. _Our_ mayor. And you're the one they wanted to follow into this."

This makes Dana blush a little, though she manages a smile too. "I wish I had your confidence."

"You do, Dana," Cecil reminds her. "You survived over a year in the Otherworld Desert. You saved Night Vale. You can do this, too. I know it."

"We _are_ going to have to work out what to do about Hiram McDaniels and the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home, though," Pamela interjects. "Perhaps you might consider a press conference to denounce them as interlopers? Or you could have them declared imaginary. I used that one a few times to deal with… troublemakers."

"Or we could flat-out deny their existence," Trish adds. "Which is not quite the same."

"I… think we might need a different approach," Dana replies, diplomatically.

This gets her something of a pout from Pamela. "…But we could still hold a press conference about it, right?"

"Uh… maybe? At some point?"

Pamela remains clearly unconvinced.

They're interrupted all of a sudden by movement from across the room. Janice is still tapping away on her phone, but Gillian is now alternating between her phone and her laptop. In the midst of it all, she sighs, leaps up, and stalks over to the living room door, sticking her head out.

" _Kevin!_ " she shouts. "The wi-fi!"

There's the sound of another door opening. "It isn't me!" comes Kevin's reply. "I'm busy plotting!"

"Doesn't mean you aren't downloading _True Blood_ at the same time!" Gillian shouts back.

The pause is longer this time. "…Oh, shush!" Kevin finally answers, and the distant door clunks shut again.

Gillian turns back to find the rest of the room staring at her. "What?" she asks, flatly. "I know what he's like."

"You're thirteen!" Dana exclaims.

Gillian shrugs. "Yeah, but I was born and raised in Desert Bluffs. Plus, my uncle really isn't a complicated soul once you get used to him." She glances at her laptop, which she's still holding in one hand, and Carlos is vaguely aware that she's keeping the screen hidden. "See?" she adds, a little apropos of nothing because she doesn't actually let them see at all. "Connection's already improving."

"And… what precisely is my double interrupting your connection to?" Cecil asks, with a flicker of suspicion in his tone.

This gets him a butter-wouldn't-melt look. The exact same one Kevin has been known to use on occasion. "Neopets," Gillian answers, without missing a beat.

"…Neopets?" Cecil repeats.

Gillian nods. "Neopets."

And she goes back to her couch, recommencing the rapid typing she'd been engaged in moments previously.

"…That young woman is good," Trish remarks. "You should consider offering her a job, Mayor Cardinal."

Dana puts her head in her hands. "Oh, I'm never going to get used to this."

"Sure you will," Pamela insists, looking a mixture of wistful and not-so-secretly put-out. "Eventually. And let's not forget that you have me to help you. I didn't have that when I took over as mayor."

"That's because your predecessor was already dead!" Cecil reminds her.

"Well, it's hardly Ms Winchell's fault her predecessor was publicly executed for multiple counts of treason, three counts of fire-starting and one of jaywalking now, is it?" says Trish, smoothly.

Cecil does not look convinced. "…Isn't it?"

Trish's expression remains implacable. Pamela, on the other hand, is back to pouting. And neither of them are all that believable, though Carlos is not daring enough to push the matter.

"Of course not," Trish insists, finally.

Well, one thing is certain at least: the transition from the old to the new mayor is going to be an interesting process in its own right. Add in the fact that it's happening in the midst of a fledgling rebellion in Desert Bluffs… and 'interesting' might well prove to be an understatement. Carlos almost wonders if it would be easier for Dana if she didn't have to deal with the two things simultaneously.

But then again… she saved Kevin's life during the Battle of Night Vale. And that means Carlos will never, ever object to having her around.

***

When they all gather for dinner that evening, Kevin explains the plan for dealing with Lawrence.

"It should be simple enough," he tells them. "Lawrence goes out to that place in the desert most mornings. We have no reason to suspect he'll stop just because of everything that's happening, so our primary plan is to intercept him there. All being well, we can have him back _here_ before anyone notices he's gone missing, and by the time Lauren realises we've got him, we'll be in a position to arrange to swap him for Steve."

"This place in the desert," Caitlin begins. "It's where my husband met up with him when he first came here?"

Kevin nods. "That's right."

"Why does Lawrence go there all the time?"

"I don't know the full details," Kevin replies, "because the man's religious observances are private but, from the few things Lawrence has said about it, he's communing with some form of ancient power. Assyrian, I would guess. You should see his cuneiform, it's _beautiful_."

"And… when you've got him..?"

"We bring him back here. And then Larry and I will… have a little talk with him." 

"Gotta say… I'm a bit concerned by all this 'talk' talk…" John Peters interjects, carefully. "I mean, I know you gotta do what you gotta do, but… we're not crossing the line, are we?"

A pause. A very, very awkward pause. "Are we?"

"No," Naomi answers. "We're not crossing the line. Though we might be getting somewhat…"

"…up close and personal with it?" Darla suggests.

"…Yes," Naomi concedes. "Yes. That."

"Still," John goes on, "I'd be a lot happier if I knew there was a third party in the room. I mean, we're talking about putting a high-value target in with – no offence – a former darling of Strexcorp and a guy who used to wo– er… used to watch a lot of detective shows…"

Larry's expression remains implacable. Kevin, on the other hand, gives John a look that is all big dark eyes and sparkling innocence, albeit with a heavy overtone of menace. "A 'former darling of Strexcorp', am I?" he says, tone hinted with amusement. "Well. I guess Mr Hartley _was_ very fond of me. Right until my demon ripped off his–"

"Kevin!" Carlos interrupts. "I have _told_ you not to tell me about it!"

"I wasn't telling you about it," Kevin insists. "I was telling John."

"And I was there when it happened," John adds. "Remember? I was on that battlefield too, standing in a line with–"

"…with the man we're trying to rescue, one of the men who can make it possible, and a woman smarter than all three of you," Caitlin interrupts, softly. "Strexcorp has my husband. You can save the moralising for _after_ you get him back."

"…Has anyone ever told you you're a little bit scary?" Carlos says to her.

Caitlin smiles. "Runs in the family," she replies, with a flash of a knowing expression.

Carlos is careful not to comment on this.

" _Even so_ ," John continues. "I still think it would be… for the best… if there was someone else in with you. I realise none of us is _impartial_ , but some of us are more impartial than, say, a former darling of Strexcorp and an expert on detective shows."

"I… have to second that," Cecil agrees, a little hesitantly. "I mean… I wasn't at all in favour the first time we discussed this, and even now… even given what's at stake…"

"…What about me?" Carlos finds himself saying, before he can stop. "Would I do?"

Suddenly, everyone seems to be staring at him, and Carlos wonders if this was a good idea. But, after a moment, John nods. "Yes," he replies. "Yes, you would."

"Are you sure this is wise..?" Cecil asks, attention all on Carlos even though the room is really rather full.

Carlos nods. "I'll be fine, Cecil. And if it makes people happier… if it makes _you_ happier… then that has to be a good thing. Right?"

Cecil seems to consider this for a moment, and then he nods too. "Right. You are the smartest person in the room, after all."

"Well, then," Kevin says, with an odd little grin, "it looks like Larry and I have ourselves an observer. Not exactly what I'm used to working with but…"

"Kevin?" Cecil interjects.

"Hm?"

"You're scaring people."

And Kevin merely smiles. " _Good_."

***

It's very early the next morning.

 _Very_ early. The double-shot of espresso has helped, but it doesn't change the fact that Carlos can't help wondering if he should have just stayed up the whole night and not bothered going to bed at all.

He suggested as much, but both Kevin and Cecil were _quite_ persuasive about the importance of sleep, and even provided a few incentives to make it worth his while.

Still. Right now, in the cool light of dawn, the sleep somehow seems less helpful.

Carlos muses on all this as he sits in the back of Naomi's van, with Kevin next to him and Larry opposite. Naomi and Darla are both up front – Naomi driving (of course) – and everyone is quiet.

It doesn't take much longer. The desert glows hazy gold in the light of the low sun as they park behind a gathering of rocks and dunes, before making the remainder of the journey on foot.

"…Is there a backup plan in case he's not here?" Carlos asks, softly.

"Sure there is," Kevin replies. "If we can't grab him in secret, we just grab him off the street later on. You know, the usual: van swerves close, door slides open, hood over the head… and he's gone."

"Isn't that a little… conspicuous?"

"Carlos, Carlos, this is Desert Bluffs. We have at least half a dozen abductions a day, remember? Even the witnesses won't think twice about it."

"So… we're ambushing him out in the desert because it's..?"

"… _neater_."

It's probably best not to argue.

Eventually, they come up the side of a low hill and find themselves looking down on a flat, rough hollow in the landscape, pleasingly secluded and out of sight. There's a car parked at the furthest edge, and – dead centre – a man kneeling in the middle of a large emblem marked out in flat, black pebbles which clearly aren't from around here.

How appropriate.

The man – who is indeed Lawrence Lavene – is dressed in everyday clothing but with a pale golden shawl around his shoulders, and he's holding his arms out to the sides. Clasped in each hand is a small, slightly spiky and wooden-looking object that…

"…OK, are those _pinecones?_ " Carlos asks in a low whisper.

Kevin nods. "Of course. I was right, he's communing with something Assyrian."

"…And that requires _pinecones?_ "

Kevin nods again. Carlos opts not to question the matter any further.

"You people are into some weird stuff," Larry mutters, as he stares down at his double.

"…Remind me again what the Night Vale _Sorrow Songs Ceremony_ is..?" Kevin says, pleasantly.

Larry gives him a flat look. "Touché. Now, we should focus."

"Agreed," Naomi answers, equally softly. "You ready for this, Kevin?"

It's only now that Carlos realises the others haven't actually told him the plan. Not the whole plan. 'Go out into the desert first thing in the morning and grab him' is clearly not the whole plan.

"Absolutely," Kevin replies. And, before Carlos can ask him what he's ready for, Kevin slips out of cover and starts walking down the hill towards Lawrence. The man in question notices after a moment, bringing his chanting – in whatever language it is – to a close and rising to his feet.

"Well, well," says Lawrence Lavene. "Kevin. Fancy meeting you here. Have you come to kill me like you did Declan? You might even get away with it. I know a trick or two, but I hardly have your expertise when it comes to cold-blooded murder."

He holds out his hands again – and the pinecones only lessen the effect a little – staring Kevin down. For his part, Kevin doesn't over-react to the baiting this time.

"I've made my peace over what happened with Declan," he replies, levelly. "I didn't enjoy killing him but I don't regret it, and I'd still do it if I had my time again. It was him or me, Lawrence. Him or the Night Vale revolutionaries. I was fighting for what I believed in and he was in my way. I had no choice."

"Moralise all you like," Lawrence retorts. "It doesn't matter. I thought you were different. I thought you were different and then you killed our friend. _My_ friend. And for what? For your little Night Valean _pets?_ "

Kevin's expression goes dark. " _Don't_ say a word against them. You say what you like about me, but you don't say a _word_ against them."

Lawrence's expression breaks into a bitter smile. "Oh, they really did a number on you, didn't they?"

"No," Kevin answers. "They didn't. I was like this all along, underneath. The Bloodstone merely… prevented me from acting on it. But now it's gone, and I'm free. We all are, Lawrence. Even you. Surely you can feel it?"

"I can feel the void in my mind left by the callous _terrorism_ of you and your Night Valean friends," Lawrence retorts. "But _free?_ I was always free, Kevin. As were you. I just chose to utilise it differently. So what now? If you're going to attempt to kill me, I'd rather you got on with it. Dying isn't on my schedule for the day, but if it's going to happen, I'd prefer it be now."

"Then I am deeply sorry to disappoint," Kevin replies, suddenly smiling. "Because, despite your ongoing attempts to paint me as a heartless murderer… I have other ways of solving my problems. _Better_ ways. And, Lawrence, if I'd come here to kill you… believe me, you'd already be dead."

"Then what..?" Lawrence starts out, before stopping almost as quickly as the truth dawns on him. "Oh. _Oh_. You want me _alive?_ Yes. Yes, I guess that's what I would have…"

He trails off as he hears movement on the opposite ridge, seconds before Naomi and Darla start slowly walking down towards him, having spent the preceding conversation moving around and into place, leaving Carlos and Larry waiting where they started.

"Ah, now, that's more like it," Lawrence goes on, turning to watch the two women as they approach, though it's clear from his tone that he knows he's in trouble now. "Just the pair of you? Or did you bring the whole coven? I heard what your lot did to the enforcers up at Sunbeam Ridge. Invoking H'ygragagogoth like that? _Harsh_."

"They left us no choice," Naomi replies, stopping close by with Darla still at her side. "I do hope you'll be smarter in comparison."

"Don't seem to have much of an option on that, do I, dear?" Lawrence retorts.

"Not really, no," Darla agrees, and even at a distance, Carlos can make out the very narrowed look she's giving Lawrence. "And don't call my wife 'dear'. Only I get to do that."

"…You never call me 'dear'," Naomi points out.

Darla shrugs, not taking her eyes off Lawrence, watching him with a very predatory air. "It's the principle of the thing."

Lawrence sighs. "Can we please get to the point?"

"If you insist," Kevin answers, and gives a wave that Carlos knows is meant for them. Well. For Larry, at least. But as the man at his side rises and begins to walk down towards his double, Carlos gets up too and follows him.

Lawrence's expression goes suddenly very level. "… _You_ ," he says.

"Me," Larry replies, mirroring his double's flat look. "Now. We need to have a little chat with you, and this would be way easier if you co-operated. If you don't… well. Then it won't be easy at all. And that's just no good for anyone."

" _Fine_ ," Lawrence answers. "Fine. I can see I'm outnumbered anyway. Just promise you won't set the scientist on me."

"Badmouth my boyfriend again and I'll forget why I like you," Kevin cuts across, in a level, cripplingly menacing tone.

"You _don't_ like me."

"Ah, but I do. If I didn't, you'd know about it."

"…You're not going to stop this anytime soon, are you?" Carlos asks, carefully.

From the looks he gets, it's clear what the answer to this is.

***

The only mercy in the whole affair is that Lawrence opts not to resist. He _is_ , after all, outnumbered, and seems somewhat distracted by being suddenly faced with his double.

Carlos can't help wondering if the two have met before, however. Something about the way they glance at each other seems so… familiar. And not just because they look the same. Maybe it's from Larry's mysterious 'detective-show-watching past'.

'Detective shows'. That's certainly an odd way to spell 'working for the vague-yet-menacing government agency'. Not that Carlos is _ever_ going to risk pointing _that_ one out. Two years in Night Vale is _more_ than enough to teach him which things are safer left unsaid.

…Huh. Two years. With everything that's been going on, he's not really thought about it, but if last Sunday was the Fifteenth… yeah. That would make it two years. And therefore one year since the bowling alley, and…

…OK, wow, how much insane stuff can happen to one man in a year?

When they get back to Naomi's place, she and Darla hustle Lawrence straight through to a pre-emptied room they've set aside for this. Kevin and Larry follow on behind – with Carlos (a little nervously) in tow – but they're intercepted en route as Cecil comes hurrying out of the living room.

"I thought you were going back to bed?" Carlos says.

"With both of you out there?" Cecil replies. "Not a chance. I just drank more coffee and talked to Frederick. I think he was up all night. He had that look you scientists get when you're too busy to sleep."

"Oh no," Carlos answers, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Did he say what he was doing?"

"…Not in words I could understand."

"I'll find out what he's up to. But… you know, later. On account of…"

And he gestures cautiously towards the door that Lawrence has just been led through.

"Oh, Carlos, it's going to be fine," Kevin insists. "Honestly. Larry and I are just going to have a nice talk with Lawrence, and you can watch so as to reassure everyone that we didn't hang him upside down by his toenails."

"You two better behave yourselves in there," Cecil says, in his very best firm-and-noble tone.

"Cecil, you have nothing to worry about," Larry insists. "How long have we known each other? Would I hang a man upside down by his toenails?"

"It isn't you I'm concerned about," Cecil answers, pointedly.

But instead of protesting, Kevin merely exchanges a knowing smile with Larry. "Good," Larry replies. "That means it's working."

"Ah," Carlos murmurs, understanding. "So Kevin gets to be Bad Cop, then?"

Larry grins. "Well, that much was a given. I mean, he is _very_ attached to that knife of his. Probably takes it to bed and everything…"

There is nothing Carlos can do to stop himself blushing a great deal at this, and nothing he can do to stop Larry noticing. Mercifully, the man just smiles knowingly and then gestures to the door. "Shall we?"

"Yes," Carlos says, very quickly. "We should."

Cecil gives Kevin a nod and then grips Carlos' hand. "I'll be close by when you're done."

The door in front of them opens again and Naomi and Darla step out. "He's all yours," Naomi says.

"Yeah," Darla agrees, and then pointedly raises her voice. "Try not to get too much blood on the walls."

"Awww, is somebody sad they aren't allowed to join in?" Kevin asks her.

"Hells, yes. Can I join in? I could be Crazy Cop!"

"I don't think that would be wise," Naomi answers, most likely before Kevin does something unhelpful, such as agree. "Come on. I need coffee."

Darla grins, then deliberately raises her voice again as she replies, "OK, _dear_."

And off they go, leaving Carlos to give Cecil one last look before he follows Kevin and Larry into the room. Said room itself is… actually, Carlos isn't sure what it usually is. Naomi's house has far more rooms than anyone could possibly need, though that is proving to be helpful now that it has turned into the proto-revolution's headquarters. Whatever furniture is usually in here has been removed, save for the single chair dead-centre where Lawrence Lavene is now sitting. He's crossed his legs and folded his arms, but even Carlos can tell that the man is worried.

Not entirely sure what the other two want him to do, Carlos himself settles for standing beside the door, where he can observe without getting in the way.

Hah. Observe. Has everyone sent him in here to report back on what happens, or because the act of his observing will _change_ what happens?

Or both.

Or… OK, Carlos, focus.

And stop internally talking to yourself. We remember how that ended last time, yes?

…It's possible he's a little nervous. Heck, it's possible he's more nervous than Lawrence is.

Larry stops close in front of his double, looking down at him. Kevin, on the other hand, paces off behind Lawrence, deliberately standing out of sight with a flicker in his eyes that's so very…

…OK, no, seriously, focus on Larry. And don't get distracted. And…

…this was a bad idea in ways other people do not realise…

"Well," Larry starts out. "I certainly didn't expect to see you ever again."

"Feeling's mutual," Lawrence retorts. "'Specially 'cause I'm retired now."

"That makes two of us. Do many enforcers _make_ it to retirement?"

"No," Lawrence tells him, pointedly. "But I was a very _good_ one. Did my twenty-five years, then handed in my badge and went off to enjoy life."

"Strexcorp lets people retire?" Larry asks, head on one side. "It doesn't seem to fit the business model."

Lawrence gives an odd little sigh. "No, it really doesn't. But then again, if people don't have the hope of retirement waiting in their future, it has a very detrimental effect on their productivity. So I'm guessing it balances out somewhere."

"You sound… sceptical."

"Look, Larry, let's not pretend we don't both know where I'm coming from," Lawrence replies. "You know as well as I do that me and Strex never got along."

"But you worked for them for twenty-five years, didn't you?" Kevin cuts in, still standing out of Lawrence's line of sight.

"Yes, I did," Lawrence answers. "And how long did _you_ work for them?"

"Point taken," Kevin replies. "So if you're not a loyalist, why all this? Why betray us to Strex, to _Lauren?_ "

"It isn't about this," Lawrence says. "In another place and time… I might have been fighting right alongside you from the very beginning."

"Like you _pretended_ to," Kevin reminds him, voice going cold. "You know we had to repeat the night at the Bloodstone, thanks to a little time travel? Well, Carlos did. The first time around… he had to watch most of us die. Or _worse_. And all of that, Lawrence? That's on _you_. So if you think you have the moral high ground here… you're very, very wrong."

Lawrence looks a little surprised. "One of the deer, I take it?" he says, eyes flicking to Carlos for a moment.

Not wanting to get drawn into this, Carlos lets Kevin answer. "That's right," Kevin tells him, now pacing closer; close enough to stand behind Lawrence, putting a hand on his shoulder. "So if you're going to start telling me you did all this for Declan, you can save it. Your hands are as bloody as mine."

"What? Because of something that happened in an alternate timeline?" Lawrence retorts. "You can't blame me for that. If we were responsible for everything we did in one alternate timeline or another, all of us would be irredeemable monsters."

"How very nihilistic," Larry remarks. "Don't you think some of the good would cancel out the bad?"

"Some bad can't be cancelled out."

" _Exactly_ ," Kevin breathes, gripping Lawrence's shoulder tighter, and it's clear from the man's expression that he knows he's misspoken. "Because of you, I _murdered_ one of my boyfriends and _terrorised_ the other. The fact that it was undone through time travel doesn't change the root of it. Nor does it change the fact that Carlos is left with graphic memories of the whole thing."

"You don't get to talk to me about morality," Lawrence hisses, trying to look up at Kevin. " _He_ does, but you don't. We all know the kind of things Mr Hartley had you doing, when you weren't talking us all to death on the radio. You must have been _very_ useful."

"What makes you say that?" Larry asks.

"I was an enforcer, remember? Quite a high-up one, after a while. I saw the reports. Even heard one or two of the stories."

"Stories?"

" _This_ guy," Lawrence goes on, now gesturing up at Kevin with a headtilt. "This guy had some serious loyalty issues. I mean, look where he's standing now. On the surface he was a Strex loyalist through and through… except that every couple of years, he'd lose it. Happened in different ways each time, but he'd end up going against the Bloodstone. Trying to fight it; trying to encourage _other people_ to fight it. And every time… well. You know how Strex deals with _unproductive_ employees. Only, every time? No consequences for Kevin. Well, aha, now that can't be wholly true. There must have been a _lot_ of consequences, but they never involved a severance package, never… oh, to Hell with the euphemisms. Everyone who got embroiled in his little plots ended up dead. Everyone except him."

Carlos tries very, very hard not to think about all this. Yes, of course he's glad that Kevin didn't end up dead, but it doesn't change the knowledge that Strexcorp must have needed to take extensive measures to push him back in line – especially to the point that Derek Hartley kept on trusting him. And whatever those measures were… they can't have been good.

Kevin's eyes flick over to him, and he gives a very, very subtle shake of the head. But it doesn't halt the terrible thoughts in Carlos' mind. Doesn't halt them at all.

"And how is that Kevin's fault?" Larry asks. "From what I've been told, that Bloodstone thing had powerful mind-control effects. If Kevin was under its influence… he wasn't acting of his own free will. And it also isn't his fault if Strexcorp's former CEO thought him too useful to kill."

"Maybe not," Lawrence concedes. "But he wasn't under the Bloodstone's influence when he was in Night Vale. Nor was he acting on Derek Hartley's orders. _That_ part was all him."

"…OK, seriously, you don't make any sense," Carlos interrupts, taking a step forward and then jumping a little when he realises that the words – and the movement – are happening in reality, and not just inside his head. But he can't stop now.

"How don't I make any sense?" Lawrence demands.

"Everything about you screams 'dissident'," Carlos goes on. "You're an ex-enforcer who clearly wasn't happy with Strex, but who cooperated with them because there was no viable alternative. Along the way, you've made friends with a man who – sooner or later – you knew was trying to fight the Bloodstone, even if he didn't know it himself most of the time, and at some point you must have also gotten close to Naomi, who is so blatantly anti-Strex that it's a wonder her own father let her get away with it for so long. And you live on the out-of-town development, which means you were further from the Bloodstone than most, in turn meaning its influence over you will have been – statistically – weaker. Something else I think you were at least partly aware of."

No one moves. Carlos can't quite see Larry's face, but the expression on Kevin's is borderline-rapt.

"So?" Lawrence demands, finally.

"So… I think every part of you is screaming out to be one of us," Carlos continues, going for broke now. "Only you won't let yourself because of what happened to your friend. To this man Declan that Kevin killed in Night Vale."

"And that's not a good enough reason?!" Lawrence exclaims. He tries to leap up, but Kevin's hand on his shoulder quickly dissuades him and he settles again. "Don't you get it? Don't you understand? He killed my friend. He killed my friend for a pair of _outsiders_."

"No, Lawrence," Carlos breathes. "He killed your friend because your friend was working for Strex, and Strex is the enemy."

"Well, yes, but… damn it!"

"At least you remember him," Kevin says, very quietly. "I imagine at least a few of my friends died during my various abortive attempts to fight the Bloodstone. But I don't even know. I don't even remember."

This is greeted by a very, very heavy silence.

"You two are more alike than you think," Larry points out, gesturing between Lawrence and Kevin. "Certainly more so than either of you would _want_ to think."

"We're not alike," Lawrence insists. "He's a murderer. I… I was just a lawman."

"You were an enforcer, Lawrence," Carlos interjects. "How many people did _you_ kill for Strex?"

Lawrence glowers at him. "That's different."

"No," Carlos pushes. "No, it isn't. And that's the crux of it, isn't it? If you really fight against Strex… if you make it clear you're opposed to them, that you think they're wrong… then all those things you did for them suddenly don't seem so justified. Suddenly _you_ don't seem so justified. You're just the same cold-blooded killer you think Kevin is. But you did what you did because you thought it was right at the time. And so did he. Larry's correct… you _are_ more alike than you realise."

There's another very heavy silence. Lawrence puts his head in his hands for a long moment, taking several deep breaths.

"We were friends once," Kevin says, softly. "And that… that still means something to me."

"Is this really what you want?" Larry asks, dropping down onto one knee so he can look his double in the eyes – at least when the other man will consent to lift his head. "To fight for Strexcorp just because you're afraid of what it means to switch sides?"

"We've all made mistakes," Carlos adds. "We've all got things in our past we wish we could undo. What we did. What we didn't do. What we said. And though… though we _can't_ undo them… we can stop them repeating. Help us, Lawrence. Help us write a new future for this town. A better one."

Carlos can see Kevin now looking at him, with the strangest flicker in his expression, and suddenly Carlos can't quite make eye contact with him. He settles for staring at Lawrence, waiting for the man to respond.

"…All right," says Lawrence Lavene, very softly, as he finally raises his head. "I… you're…"

"We know," Kevin replies, equally softly. "We know."

***

If Carlos is surprised by this turn of events, it's nothing compared to the looks he and Kevin get as they head back into the living room, where various people are sitting around drinking coffee and contemplating breakfast. They leave Larry with Lawrence, and – though superficially they're talking about what the revolution is going to ask of Lawrence – Carlos can only imagine what they're _really_ discussing.

"…Smiling God, please tell me you haven't killed him?" Naomi says, as Kevin and Carlos walk in.

"Seriously, Naomi, get a grip," Kevin replies, very levelly. "If I'd killed him, I'd be covered in his blood. Do I have _any_ blood on me? As it happens, I never even needed to draw my knife."

"Then what happened in there?" Cecil asks, having risen to his feet and moved closer with an expression of concern on his face. "We expected you to be quite some time."

"To be honest, so did I," Kevin answers. "Turns out we didn't realise we had a secret weapon."

"A secret weapon?" Darla repeats.

"Yep," says Kevin, brightly. "Carlos. Broke Lawrence in, like, two minutes."

"What?!" Cecil exclaims, as Carlos blushes furiously.

"Yep," Kevin says again. "Logic-ed him to death. Well, not death. He's honestly not dead. But it was kinda amazing…"

Carlos blushes even more. "I didn't do anything," he mutters. "I just pointed out a few flaws in his thinking."

"Carlos, you broke him with logic," Kevin insists. "It was beautiful."

Carlos drops onto the nearest couch and puts his head in his hands. "I need coffee."

"Coming right up!" says Darla, very brightly, sounding like she's enjoying herself way too much.

And Carlos still can't lift his head. Has he just proven _psychology_ is a _science?!_

"So he'll help us?" Naomi now asks Kevin.

"I think so," Kevin replies. "We left Larry with him. I think he's got a few issues he needs to talk through. But deep down… he's wanted to help us all along."

"Then why didn't he?" Cecil wonders.

"Because he was an enforcer for twenty-five years. Quite a high-up one, by the end. And because switching sides means he can no longer justify the things he did back then."

Carlos looks up in time to see the flicker in Cecil's eyes at this. "Do… you have the same thing?" he asks.

Kevin nods. "Yes," he says.

"…Often?"

"Every day."

This makes Cecil put an arm around him, and Kevin leans into the contact, looking oddly grateful for it.

The moment is broken – perhaps mercifully – as Darla comes bouncing back through from the kitchen. "One double espresso," she announces, brightly. "Just the way you scientists like it."

She's right about this. Carlos downs at least half of the espresso at once, oblivious to how hot it is.

"Well," Naomi says. "We should wrangle everyone else and work out what we do next. Over breakfast."

"Your obsession with breakfast is a little alarming at times," Carlos points out, voice somewhat rough from having drunk blazing hot coffee too fast.

Naomi shrugs. "Most important meal of the day."

"It is the way you do it," Cecil agrees. "Even if you do eat all these _terribly illegal_ things."

This gets him a bright, slightly deadly smile. "But of course. Toast?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read some of my non-NV fic, you may have noticed I have something of a _thing_ for interrogation, and I've been looking for an appropriate way to get it into this fic for a while. Lawrence seemed like the perfect choice - so I worked it into the plot - but I had to come up with a reason to get Carlos in the room, due to it all being from his PoV. Originally he was just going to watch, and then he went all _logic_ on me, and things did _not_ go the way I had expected! I love it when they take me by surprise.
> 
> Oh, and bonus points if you get why Gillian shouting, "Kevin! The wi-fi!" is funnier than it should be... ;-)


	17. Lonely Nation

_Singing without tongues_  
 _Screaming without lungs_  
 _I want more than my desperation_  
 _I want more than my lonely nation_

~ Switchfoot: _'Lonely Nation'_

***

By the time breakfast is actually ready, most of the other revolutionaries have appeared from their various bedrooms upstairs. Naomi gathers them together before Larry brings Lawrence through, and there's a weirdly awkward moment as they all get over how fast this has happened.

If nothing else, no one looks more shell-shocked than Lawrence himself, but he makes it quite clear that he'll help them, and that he regrets what he's done. He still seems a little too rattled to eat, but eagerly accepts a cup of coffee from Darla which – Carlos supposes – could be interpreted as a peace offering.

"Well, then," Naomi says, finally. "We can move to the next phase of this straight away. We need to get in touch with my _dear_ sister and attempt to talk her into a prisoner swap. Lawrence for Steve. We ought to give it a few more hours before we get in touch, however, otherwise it will look very suspicious. We need Lauren convinced that Lawrence is still on her side."

The man himself nods. "I can be pretty convincing," he says.

"We know," Naomi answers, though not unkindly. "And you'll need to be. Though we won't leave you in place longer than seems sensible. Eventually, we'll pull you out too."

"You do still need me after all," Lawrence points out.

"Yes," Naomi agrees. "We do. But that isn't the only reason. We don't leave our people behind. Right, Kirsten?"

Kirsten nods. "Right."

"Right," Naomi says again. "And all being well… we should have Steve back by tonight."

"Thank goodness," Caitlin says. "Even if I am going to kill him when I get hold of him."

At this point, Gillian's phone beeps. She picks it up, taps it a couple of times, and then puts it down without a word.

"…And what was that, young lady?" Kirsten asks, with an air of motherly suspicion.

"Neopets," Gillian answers, without blinking.

"…Neopets doesn't send email notifications," Victor points out. "Except when–"

"Shut up, Victor," says Tamika.

"And yes, it does," Gillian insists. "Well, mine does. I set it up myself."

And all of the young people go very quiet.

"…What exactly is going on?" Kirsten pushes.

"Nothing, Mom," Gillian replies, with that butter-wouldn't-melt look again.

One thing is certain: something is clearly going on. But trying to get a group of thirteen-year-olds to inform on each other is likely harder than trying to take down a hyper-powerful corpocratic regime with nothing but a group of misfits hiding in a house on the outskirts of town.

Kirsten looks like she's about to ask something else, but she's interrupted by a burst of noise from outside: heavy whirring – though not helicopter blades – followed by a rough thud, a roar, and what sounds a lot like _fire_.

"…What in the name of..?" Naomi starts out, seconds before one of her personal enforcers bursts into the room.

"Ms Naomi, Ms Naomi!" the man exclaims, actually flailing his arms in obvious shock. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but we've got a fairly serious problem."

"The sounds were a bit of a giveaway," Naomi responds, dryly – and way more calmly than seems reasonable. "What's going on?"

"Well, that's just the thing, ma'am," the enforcer continues, eyes wide. "There's a dragon on the front lawn!"

"A _dragon?_ "

"Yes, ma'am! A five-headed dragon!"

All of the Night Valean eyes go suddenly to Dana. "…Oh no," whispers the incumbent mayor. "I…"

She pauses, taking a deep breath, eyes flicking to Cecil for a moment as he gives her a supportive nod.

"…I'd better go talk to him." And Dana leaps up at once, hurrying out.

"You know what's going on?" Naomi asks, as everyone else moves to follow.

"Oh yes," says Cecil. "Sounds like Hiram McDaniels just turned up. And your enforcer is quite right: he is literally a five-headed dragon."

As if this day _needed_ to get any stranger.

***

When they step outside, they're faced with quite a scene. There is indeed a five-headed dragon standing on the front lawn, apparently oblivious to the blood everywhere, although maybe the excessive fire-breathing is partly in response to this. One of the trees is quite comprehensively ablaze – despite the blood – and there are several deep gashes in the lawn.

The dragon himself – unmistakeably Hiram McDaniels – is currently staring down at Dana with his wings spread and four of his five heads primed to attack. The fifth – his grey head – is loitering off to the side, seeming generally despondent about the whole situation.

Dana herself is staring up at Hiram, clearly alarmed but standing her ground. Once the current bout of roaring is over, the dragon lowers his heads, the gold one moving closer as he speaks.

"Well, well, now this is a turnout for the books," Hiram says. "Thought you could hide from the consequences of your actions by running away to _Desert Bluffs?_ That sure is creative, Dana. Real creative. But we found you, and now it's time for–"

"… _We?_ " Dana pushes.

"Yes," says a cool, level voice seemingly without source. "Hiram didn't come here alone. I'm here too."

"…And you would be?" Naomi demands.

"The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home," she replies. "Well. Not yours, though. I don't do Desert Bluffs. You people are _way_ too messed-up for me. But I couldn't let Hiram come deal with this _pretender_ on his own. If nothing else, law of succession clearly states that, were Hiram to kill Dana, he would automatically become mayor until a new election could be convened. And I can't have that."

"What about our deal?" Hiram demands, gold head snaking through the air as if trying to work out precisely where his opponent-slash-compatriot actually is.

"Oh, Hiram, I haven't forgotten our deal," the Faceless Old Woman tells him, coolly. "We're in this together. Right up until we _aren't_ in it together, at which point it's every woman-or-dragon for themselves. Unless you want to concede right now?"

"Can you two maybe save this part for when you _aren't_ in a standoff with me?" Dana interrupts, in her fiercest tone.

"The tiny human speaks wisely!" Hiram's green head interjects. "We came here to do away with this pretender with fire and claw and rage! Let us make good on that threat and be done!"

"My green head has a good point," Hiram says, his gold head tilting as he looks at Dana. "When the Faceless Old Woman and I spoke to you on Election Day, we gave you forty-eight hours to sort out this mess. Looks to me like you haven't."

"Agreed," says the Faceless Old Woman. "In fact, it looks rather more like you ran away to Desert Bluffs to hide from us. Or are you just trying to do us a favour by getting yourself killed in some insane rebellion?"

"Our _revolution_ isn't insane," Cecil interjects. "And both of you are better than this. Now why don't you put an end to all the fire-breathing and we can talk about the situation like civilised beings?"

"Talk is irrelevant!" Hiram's green head roars. "The bite-sized morsel must be dealt with!"

"Yes, yes!" his violet head concurs. "Eat the girl and be done with it! Then leave, leave this terrible place!"

"Uh, that 'terrible place' you're talking about is our _home_ , dragon," Darla points out, taking a step forward with her arms folded. "And that 'morsel' is one of our allies. We're trying to do something big, here, and – in case you were too busy posturing to notice – it's way more important than your internal political squabbles. So why don't you just save it, apologise for setting my garden on fire, and try behaving like _adults!_ "

There's a very weird silence.

"…Is anyone else really turned on right now?" Naomi whispers.

Kirsten pats her on the shoulder. "Naomi, honey, if we were, we wouldn't dare admit it."

"Darla is right!" Dana insists, still looking up at Hiram, refusing to back down. "All of this… all of this is more important than what's going on between us. Strexcorp nearly destroyed Night Vale, and what they've done here in Desert Bluffs is infinitely worse. So… you should just cut me some slack and maybe consider _helping_ our neighbours, like I have. Like… like a good mayor should."

"Or we could just burn you!" Hiram's violet head squeaks.

"This little rebellion of yours is doomed to failure," the Faceless Old Woman says. "Better to give up now and go back to Night Vale before more of your friends perish in increasingly horrible ways."

"Quite correct, quite correct," Hiram's blue head interrupts. "Current projections suggest an eighty-three percent probability that all of you will be dead in a week. Success is – statistically speaking – out of the question."

"Well, forgive me if I don't quit so easily!" Dana replies. "I've come this far. I survived a year in the Otherworld Desert. I rallied an army who saved Night Vale from Strex. I… I deserve this chance."

"Out of the question!" roars Hiram's green head, shooting a jet of fire into the air – which makes nearly everyone jump.

"No," Dana says, very firmly. "No, it is not out of the question. Nor is our success here. So… you know what? If you want to petition the City Council for a recount, I'll agree to it. I'll even promise to go along with whatever the new decision from Hidden Gorge happens to be. But first, I need something from both of you."

"…Go on," says the Faceless Old Woman.

"I want you to join our revolution."

"Did you take leave of your senses?" Hiram replies, all five sets of eyes narrowing.

"No," Dana answers, firmly. "I did not. You think you're worthy to be mayor of Night Vale? Prove it. Help me – help _us_ – free our neighbours from the most evil organisation on the planet. Help us do this and then – then – we can talk about the rest."

"Pointless," Hiram's grey head murmurs. "We'll all die and then the matter will be irrelevant anyway."

"Precisely!" his green head concurs. "No deal!"

"Now, now, fellas," Hiram interjects, regarding Dana with caution. "I'm inclined to go along with this."

"Oh, Hiram, you cannot be serious!" the Faceless Old Woman exclaims. "Although… hmmm, actually this works well in my favour. I'm hardly at risk of death myself. If you and Dana get yourselves killed in this insanity… yes. Yes. On second thoughts, I agree."

Seeming to accept this despite the motivation behind it, Dana gives a firm nod. "Good. OK. Thank you. Hiram?"

"Well, I am literally a five-headed dragon, so I'm not so worried about the whole dying-thing either," Hiram says, clearly thinking aloud.

"Our death is still a forty-seven percent probability," his blue head points out, a little disdainfully. "We would not be so well-served by such a decision."

"Yeah, but when has it been about _us?_ " his grey head murmurs.

"It's about us if we're all connected to the same body," blue says.

"Then we will have to rend even _more_ of our foes to ensure survival!" green roars.

"Yes, yes!" violet squeaks. "Rend them all and burn the remains!"

"…Fine," Hiram cuts across. "Fine. Me and my other four heads agree. Well… sorta agree. But when all this is over…"

"I know, I know," Dana says, but Carlos can hear the smile in her voice.

"Does that mean we can go back indoors now?" Caitlin asks.

Mercifully, it does.

***

"We should probably fill you in on what's been happening," Cecil says to Hiram, as they head into the main entrance hall again. With breakfast over, various groups of people start filtering off to whatever they've got planned for the morning, leaving only a few of them to deal with the five-headed dragon and his unseen companion.

"Might be sensible," Hiram concurs. "Y'know, given how complicated all this looks to be."

"Well," Cecil starts out, "it…"

"…Hang on one second," Carlos interrupts, blinking several times. "I… you're… we're indoors now."

"Ten points for observation," says Hiram, dryly. "What of it?"

The more Carlos looks, the more it doesn't make sense. "You're an eighteen-foot tall dragon."

"Correct."

"So… how did you get in through the door?"

All five of Hiram's heads give a weirdly simultaneous shrug. "Details, details," he says, dismissively.

"But… but… physics!" Carlos exclaims, now completely unable to work out how the dragon _did_ get in through the door.

"A mere technicality," Hiram insists. "Now, Cecil, you were saying..?"

"Yes, right," Cecil replies, though he's staring at Carlos a little as if also perturbed by the bending of science apparently in play here. "Well, you see, it all started when–"

"…What the heck were you playing at?!" comes a voice from the front door, and Tamika Flynn hurries into the hall.

"Oh, let bygones be bygones," Hiram insists, with a flap of one wing that nearly knocks Tamika over.

"You breathed fire at my helicopter!" Tamika exclaims.

"I thought it was one of the Strexcorp choppers," Hiram replies. "I was tryin' to do you a favour!"

"Oh, Hiram, nobody's going to believe that," the Faceless Old Woman points out from… wherever she currently is. "You came here to eat Dana."

"Yeah, well… you came here to help!"

"A fact I am not denying in the slightest. However–"

"This doesn't change the part where you breathed fire at my helicopter!" Tamika interrupts.

"I… true, true," Hiram concedes. "OK, look, I'm sorry about the fire-breathing thing. I promise I won't do it again unless absolutely necessary. Dragon's honour."

Tamika folds her arms and does not look impressed. "…Fine," she says, after a moment. "See that you don't."

And off she goes, pulling out a paperback book and starting to read it as she walks.

"So," Hiram says, "you've got kids in helicopters and half of Night Vale's notables holed up in a swanky estate on the edge of Desert Bluffs. Want to take it from the top?"

It's a story that's getting longer with each re-telling.

***

It's mid-afternoon.

Things have been much quieter for several hours. Some of the revolutionaries are working on ways to build up their presence in the city. Some are guarding the estate. Some still insist they're playing Neopets but – as before – Carlos isn't fooled.

He himself has gone back to the lab with Frederick, in an attempt to untangle the truth behind whatever superweapon the man may or may not be trying to construct. And because science is soothing, and sometimes he just needs to do a little in order to clear his head.

It isn't wholly helpful. Everyone is clock-watching. Non-existent time or no, they're all aware that it won't be long before Naomi makes her call to Lauren, to set up the 'prisoner-exchange' of Lawrence for Steve. And that… well. That's going to make tonight quite a night.

It's just as Carlos is contemplating more coffee (increasing Frederick's caffeine levels makes him talk more, which in turn increases the likelihood that he'll eventually come clean about whatever he's been up to) that he hears the commotion out in the hall. It starts out as someone banging on the front door, but rapidly turns into a heavy smashing, followed by a rough thud as said door is knocked clean in.

Most of the house's bizarre population comes running, and – Carlos notices at once – the armed ones are very armed. But all those ready-to-fight looks blend to expressions of flat shock as they see precisely who has just burst into the house.

"Merciful Einstein…" Carlos murmurs.

There are three figures standing in the entrance hall… and one of them is Steve Carlsberg.

" _Steve!_ " Caitlin exclaims, not hesitating a second longer, breaking away from the group in the doorway to Naomi's study and racing over to her husband, throwing her arms around him. Steve seems a little stunned to see his wife here, but more than happy to sweep her in and give her a very involved kiss.

"Whoa," Frederick breathes, at Carlos' side, though he's confident that Steve Carlsberg's reunion kiss with his wife is not the cause of the other scientist's sudden shock.

And this is understandable. Of the two figures accompanying Steve, one is a man in a lab coat. A man absolutely identical to Frederick.

" _…Merciful Planck…_ " Frederick breathes. "My double! Steve found my double!"

Carlos facepalms. One of them is more than enough. He has no idea how to cope with two.

It is however interesting, and telling, to see what people will react to first when faced with multiple surprises. Some of the group are most focused on Steve. Frederick, understandably, is most focused on his double.

The rest of them? Well. That part isn't a surprise either.

"Demon!" Darla shrieks, brandishing her knife at the third of the new arrivals. Said figure is – seemingly – a very tall man, save for the fact that he's dressed in some kind of spiked metal armour, and the fact that his skin is a mottled black and red. He has a pair of short, pointed horns on his otherwise hairless head, and eyes that glitter vivid amber.

"Oh, you can all relax," Steve says, having broken the kiss with Caitlin (though he keeps an arm around her). "These two are with me. The one in the lab coat is Roderick and the tall, scary one is Bharaieogh."

" _Barry?_ " Kevin repeats, sounding a little incredulous.

"Bharaieogh!" the demon roars. "It's 'Bharaieogh'! I can hear you spelling it wrong!"

"But they both sound the same," Roderick the scientist whispers, sotto-voce.

"Not the point, tiny man!" rumbles Bharaieogh, folding his arms.

"…Everyone be quiet," Naomi interrupts, without raising her voice.

Everyone falls silent.

"Very good. Now…" Naomi paces forwards, and Carlos can't help noticing that she keeps her knife drawn, albeit held seemingly loosely at her side. "…Perhaps, Steve, you'd like to explain precisely what happened?"

There's suspicion in her tone. That's… well. Though Carlos hates to think it, it's understandable. Steve has supposedly been in Strexcorp's loving care for two days, and that means… they can't take anything for granted.

"Seconded," Cecil says, taking a step forward, and clearly trying to hide a _great_ deal of relief behind his own expression. "Last we heard… Strex had you."

"Yeah, they did," Steve replies. "Grabbed me right after you three ran off to do your revolutionary radio thing. Dragged me over to their HQ and introduced me to Naomi's charming sister."

"Ah," Naomi says. "And how was Lauren?"

"Oh, just a delight," Steve answers, dryly. "Didn't take too kindly to me showing her a few of the voices I can do. She was _trying_ to question me – I think – but I was hardly going to stand for any of that nonsense."

"Did she hurt you?" Caitlin asks.

"Nah," says Steve, in what he probably hopes is a macho, dismissive voice. "I mean, she _said_ some hurtful things, but I'm so very above that. So, anyway, after a while she had those enforcers of hers throw me in prison and – I can tell you – they've got the whole 'ominous cellblock' thing pitch-perfect. It was…"

"…Terrifying?" Cecil suggests, in a weirdly understanding tone.

"Yeah," Steve replies, looking a little taken aback by the lack of baiting. "Yeah. That."

"But… how did you get out?" Caitlin asks.

"Ah, now that's where things get _seriously_ cool," Steve goes on. "So there I am, all alone in that scary Strexcorp prison cell, when… get this: the _security camera_ starts _talking_ to me."

Cecil facepalms rather loudly. "Oh dear," he murmurs. "You've clearly lost it."

"That was exactly what I thought at first," Steve admits. "But no… it was really talking to me. It knew who I was. It said it would help me get out."

"A _security camera?_ "

"Yes, Cecil, a security camera. Only, it wasn't _actually_ the camera. Someone had hacked into the Strex systems and was using the camera as an interface. To talk to me."

"Someone hacked the systems?" Cecil repeats. "But… who?"

By now, Steve is practically bouncing with excitement. "You're never going to believe me. But then, you never believe me anyway so I'll just tell you. It was _Cyberghost616!_ "

"Cyberwho?" Naomi asks.

"Cyberghost616," Steve says again.

Cecil headtilts. "…That hacker you're obsessed with?"

Steve looks a mixture of triumphant and aghast. "So you _do_ pay attention to me!"

"…Sometimes," Cecil murmurs. "But… how would Cyberghost616 even know where you were?"

This gets him a very flat look. "Because he's Cyberghost616," Steve says, voice matching his expression. "He's one of the best hackers on the _planet_."

"Yeah, but why would he be watching you?" Cecil reasons.

"Well, I haven't quite worked that part out yet," Steve concedes. "But I wasn't going to argue. Not when he unlocked the door and started directing me through the prison block. Got me all the way to one of those little offices they have, like… you know, like the one in the prison up at Sunbeam Ridge? Well. Found all the stuff they took off me, including my smartphone, along with a nice, easily-accessible terminal. Between us, Cyberghost and I managed to lock out half the Strex mainframe and clear me a path to the exit."

"That was… fortuitous," Naomi remarks.

"Fortuitous?" Steve repeats. "It was darned perfect! And it worked. It was the middle of the night when I got out, but… I got out."

"So… why did it take you another day and a half to get here?" Cecil asks.

"I am _getting_ to that," Steve says. "So I was out, but I had no idea where I was. Cyberghost was still talking to me via a weird new app on my phone, and we decided I should risk turning on the GPS and pulling up a map. Well. I was way out in the middle of the desert. No idea how I got that far, considering that I'd been in prison underneath Strex HQ in the centre of town. But, you know, priorities. There were enforcer patrols moving in, so Cyberghost said I should find somewhere to lay low. Only possibility was this little compound I came across that turned out to be an experimental science lab of some sort. Which is where Roderick here comes in."

"You climbed in through the window!" Frederick's double squeaks. "You're not supposed to do that! I nearly had a heart attack."

"Cool it, genius," Steve replies, not unsympathetically. "It was quicker than trying to bypass the bloodlock on the door. Much as those aren't difficult… the darned window was _open!_ I mean… that's hardly _secure_ , is it?"

"It's soothing," Roderick insists, looking sheepish. "I like the natural air, especially at night."

"So _anyway_ , I climbed through the window and into the lab. And the only guy around was Roderick. Well, let me tell you, I nearly jumped a mile. I mean, what're the chances you're going to run into the double of someone you know way out in the desert?"

"Round _here?_ " Carlos interjects. "Pretty high, actually."

"…Oh, shush," Steve replies. "Well. So there I am, on the floor, staring up at Roderick. And you know what he says to me? Go on, Rod, tell them."

"…I think it was something like 'Is this a snap inspection?'" Roderick answers. "To which _you_ replied, 'Is that a pick-up line or are you just really scared for your life?' To which _I_ replied, 'I'm really just scared for my life.' Which…"

"…Kinda killed the mood," Steve says, though he's grinning. "Turns out Roderick isn't so fond of Strex either, especially not since we got rid of that Bloodstone thing. Cyberghost admitted later that he'd deliberately pointed me in Roderick's direction because he knew the guy would help. And help he did! He let me hole up in the lab overnight and said in the morning he'd take me back to you lot."

"So far, so good," Naomi replies, with a nod. "So what went wrong?"

"What went wrong is that you moved!" Steve exclaims, suddenly. "We made it to the safehouse yesterday morning and it was empty!"

"You'd been kidnapped!" Cecil retorts. "We had to move! You might have told Lauren where we were!"

"Cecil, honestly, if that was the whole of it, I'd practically agree with you," Steve concedes. "I mean, it was good thinking. Only, you came back _here?!_ "

Cecil gestures widely at the roomful of familiar faces. "Events moved on! Tamika and her allies brought helicopters, so Naomi decided we'd be safe here with them watching us, and even _Kevin_ agreed! So… so we came back."

"Well, I know that _now_ ," Steve replies. "I got in touch with Cyberghost again and he said… actually, he said pretty much the same thing. Then he said we needed to run, 'cause someone had spotted us and the enforcers were closing in. So, you know, we ran. Hid out in a warehouse somewhere in town. Might have been able to find someplace better, only I lost touch with Cyberghost briefly and had to make a snap-decision about which turning to take, and… well. Doesn't matter now. We hid and we were safe. Safeish."

"Safe _ish?_ " Cecil echoes.

"Yeah… ish," Steve answers. "Roderick was pretty riled up because he thought we were going to die, and I'd lost contact with Cyberghost again, and… well…"

"I suggested summoning something," Roderick interrupts, nervously. "I've seen my brother do it loads of times, and I was sure I could replicate the process. Only…"

"…Only, you didn't have a summoning _name_ so _Steve_ here just used the first one to come into his head!" Bharaieogh roars. "And he was still spelling it wrong!"

"…Wait, _Steve_ did the summoning?!" Cecil exclaims.

"Well, _I_ wasn't going to do it!" Roderick squeaks. "Demon-summoning violates the laws of thermodynamics! It's _unnatural!_ "

"Finally, someone else who understands!" Carlos can't stop himself exclaiming.

"So… so Roderick dictated the chant to me, and I did the summoning," Steve goes on, giving both Cecil and Carlos a narrowed look, one after the other. "And… boom, there he was. This guy right here. All… tall and… spiky, and stuff. And then _he_ said some things and shook my hand and… OK, so I was a bit in shock on account of having just _summoned a demon_ and I didn't quite realise what was going on, and…"

At this point, Kevin collapses into hysterics. He's laughing so hard that he has to hold onto Cecil for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

"You want to let us all in on the joke?" Cecil asks, seeming vaguely alarmed by Kevin's reaction.

But Kevin still can't get a word out. "It wasn't just a summoning," Naomi explains instead, clearly trying to suppress a smile of her own. "It was a soul-bind."

Kevin collapses back into hysterics, and Cecil rapidly does the same, the pair of them holding onto each other and nigh-on howling with laughter.

"Shut _up_ , Cecil, it is _not_ funny!" Steve exclaims, going rather pink. "How was I to know it was the establishing ritual for a soul-bind?! I thought I was just… you know, borrowing the guy for a little while!"

"Technically, you are," Bharaieogh rumbles, with something of a smile of his own. "It's not like I'm going to be around all the time. Just when you summon me."

"And I said I was sorry!" Roderick interjects, flailing a little. "Anyway, we were desperate, and you'd dragged me into this insane situation, and… and… oh shush, you like him really!"

"Oh, this is absolute magic!" Kevin finally manages. "So you two are… are…"

"Kevin!" Steve exclaims, sternly, though it doesn't have the desired effect.

"…Should I be worried?" Caitlin asks.

"No," Naomi tells her. "Despite Kevin and Cecil's… high-spirited reactions… Steve should be perfectly fine. _Won't he?_ " she adds, pointedly, looking at Bharaieogh.

"Yes, ma'am," the demon answers, very quickly.

"…OK, seriously, does _everyone_ know about your lineage?" Kevin says, attempting to look vaguely composed.

"It's easier for extra-planars," Naomi replies, calmly. "They… _we_ … can sense it in each other. So. Bharaieogh. You're… what? Seventh Infernal Plane?"

He nods. "That's right."

Naomi nods. "Good. Steve, you'll be fine. Just watch out if you summon him on the first of the month."

"…Why?"

"It's the Seventh's paperwork day."

"Why are all the infernal planes obsessed with paperwork?" Carlos has to ask.

"Can you think of anything worse?" Naomi replies.

"…Touché."

" _So_ ," Steve now says, giving Cecil and Kevin one last sullen glower before he speaks, " _after_ I was done with the summoning and… and, you know, the other stuff… there we were, the three of us, in that warehouse. And then an enforcer patrol came by to check the place out. I don't think they knew where we were, but they knew we were _somewhere_ so they were sweeping the area, and…"

"Seems likely," Lawrence interjects. "That would be the standard procedure if…"

"…Hold on a second," Steve re-interrupts. "You. You're here? Aren't you evil?"

"I'm reformed," Lawrence replies, a little more quietly.

"Long story," Larry adds, giving his double a pat on the shoulder. "We can get to that part."

"Larry, if this gets any more complicated, we're going to need a spreadsheet or something," Carlos points out, only he has to stop himself elaborating any further on account of the fact that now his mind has started to design said spreadsheet and…

…OK, stop now.

(…ooooh, lookups…)

" _Anyway_ ," Steve goes on, taking another shot at getting his story finished. "So we were hiding at one end of the warehouse, and the enforcers were coming in from the other end. And _I_ said something about wishing we had a helpful diversion, and Cyberghost started suggesting something involving hijacking the building's electrical supply. Only… it turned out that _my_ demon had it all in hand."

There's the barest flicker of pride at that, and Carlos can't help thinking that Steve is more pleased about this unexpected soul-bind than he's been letting on.

"So what happened?" Caitlin asks.

Steve gives a vaguely guilty-about-not-being-guilty sort of shrug. "Bharaieogh burnt the warehouse down."

"What?!" Caitlin exclaims.

Bharaieogh, meanwhile, manages something that is remarkably close to a pout. "It was hardly my fault that the puny structure could not withstand the might of my diversionary tactics."

Steve folds his arms, in precisely the same way that Kevin does when he's telling Azatothoth off but is in fact secretly pleased about whatever it is the demon has done this time. "Bharaieogh," he says. "That was not a diversionary tactic. A diversionary tactic is when you make a noise in the opposite direction or ring a phone at the far end of the building."

"Or when you start a fire to draw pursuers off your trail," Bharaieogh insists.

"…Well, OK, yes, but it's generally a given that you start the fire _somewhere_ else. Not _directly_ in front of you."

"So I got a little enthusiastic! So what? It worked, didn't it?!"

"You… haven't had many soul-binds yet, have you?" Kevin asks.

"…Three," Bharaieogh concedes. "Steve is my fourth. But you have to start somewhere!"

"Very true," says Naomi, rubbing the bridge of her nose and trying – again – to get the conversation back on track. "So… you started a fire?"

"Yep," says Bharaieogh, more happily. "Shot it from my hands. I can do that now."

"Now?" repeats Hiram McDaniels. "You mean you couldn't before?"

"Well, no. Not 'til I got my extra-planar license. Also, aren't you a five-headed dragon?"

"How very observant!" roars Hiram's green head, in a deeply scathing tone.

"We'll… explain that part later," says Larry. "Or possibly we just need the spreadsheet Carlos suggested…"

"No!" Bharaieogh exclaims. "No spreadsheets! I come to this plane to get away from those things! Do you know how dangerous macros are?"

"Er… only if you write them wrong?" Carlos tries.

"'Write them wrong'?" Bharaieogh repeats. "You can't _write_ macros! They'd bite you!"

"…I think maybe we're talking about different things..?"

"I'm not so sure about that…" Naomi murmurs, now looking close to facepalming. " _So_. Steve. The warehouse was on fire..?"

"Uh, right, right," Steve replies. "Bharaieogh set the warehouse on fire, and we ran for it. Cyberghost had gotten into the enforcer deployment systems and he started directing us, and eventually we ended up at this big office block. I wasn't sure why, but Cyberghost said we needed to be there. So… I told Bharaieogh to disappear for a while, and Roderick and I got inside and hid out in the maintenance corridors."

"Which offices was it?" Naomi asks.

"Well, you know, that's the part that surprised me," Steve answers. "It was called Hemble and Proctorfield, and…"

"…Whoa, wait," Kevin interrupts. "Hemble and Proctorfield? That's one of Strex's main legal subsidiaries. They handle all the contract law."

"They certainly looked dull enough," Steve says. "Cyberghost insisted we needed to be there and said it was crucial for the revolution, and he'd never been wrong before so I agreed. We couldn't stay in touch once we were inside the building, though. Turned out the whole place was protected by some kind of jamming field… you know, like the Sunbeam Ridge prison? But Cyberghost said we needed to stay. Said someone was coming there and we needed to be on hand to listen where electronic surveillance was impossible. So we went in, and hid out in the maintenance corridors, like I said, and… eventually, Cyberghost was proven spectacularly right."

"He was?" Cecil says. "How?"

Steve's expression brightens. "How? I'll tell you how, Cecil. Yesterday evening, someone turned up for a meeting with the legal people. Someone pretty significant."

"…Lauren," Naomi says, softly. "It was Lauren, yes?"

Steve nods. "Yes. She had a sit-down with what I'm guessing were all of Hemble and Proctorfield's most important people… and Roderick and I overheard the whole thing."

"And it was terrifying!" Roderick squeaks. "You should've just let me keep hiding in that supply closet!"

"Oh, shush, we were fine," Steve replies, patting him on the shoulder. "Anyway, in this meeting… OK, so I didn't get all of it, on account of it being in legalese. And Strexese. And… you know, kinda dull. But I can tell you what Lauren's next move is going to be."

"You can?" Cecil exclaims.

"Oh yes, Cecil," Steve says, folding his arms and looking proud of himself. "I can."

"…Because of Cyberghost," Cecil adds.

Steve's eyes narrow. "Partly because of Cyberghost. And partly because I went _seeking for the truth_. And I found it. And… now I'm hoping Naomi can explain it to me."

"What did Lauren say?" Naomi asks, flatly.

"She said… well, she said a lot. Some of it _very_ hurtful. But the crux of it all seemed to be that she's going to do something at… er… when are we up to, now? Er… noon, tomorrow. She said… she's going to 'invoke the contracts'. _All_ the contracts."

"…What..!" Kevin exclaims, and Carlos is stunned to see that his boyfriend has gone pale. "She… she _wouldn't_ … oh, she would, wouldn't she?"

"I'm afraid she would," Naomi replies. "She did threaten 'special privileges', after all. And though it would take a lot… a _lot_ … I reckon Lauren is more than desperate enough to do it now."

"OK, so what does that actually mean?" Steve pushes. "It was clearly a massive thing. The lawyers got very riled up about it."

"It… OK, I'll have to explain this from the top," Naomi starts out. "When someone is employed by Strexcorp, they sign the standard employment contract. In blood, of course. Those contracts are very… binding. They're… more or less the same as a soul-bind, actually."

"What?!" Cecil exclaims. "All of Strexcorp's employees are _soul-bound_ to it?!"

Naomi nods. "Basically, yes. When a person is soul-bound with a demon, it comes with certain obligations. Neither can harm the other without having to face very serious consequences. It's why we use them, because obviously a lot of the demons would _gladly_ attack their summoners otherwise."

"Can you blame us?" Bharaieogh rumbles. "You're all so squishy and flaily, and you make such satisfying noises when we smite you."

"Bharaieogh?" Steve says, in what Carlos is confident the voice he uses when he's telling Janice to do her homework.

"Hm?"

"Shush."

Bharaieogh does not look impressed, though he does do as he's told.

"…Case in point," Naomi goes on, with a vague gesture at Steve and his new demon. "Both parties in the soul-bind are obligated to do certain things, and honour-bound to do certain others. It makes the relationships work. Go against the things you're honour-bound to do and it's frowned on, and problematic come performance appraisal season. Go against the things you're _obligated_ to do, and… you'll find you can't. It's why summoning _without_ a soul-bind is highly dangerous, because, nine times out of ten, the demon will try to kill you."

"Or pull your limbs off," Kevin adds, with a wry little smile that doesn't cover over how pale he still is, or how shaken he still looks.

"Precisely," Naomi agrees. "Now. Maintaining a connection like that is difficult on this plane. That's why most people have limited summonings. So when it comes to the bind between Strex and its employees, we… _they_ … use a workaround. Namely, the bind is not fully activated. It's enshrined in law, and most of the time, if there are any issues, they're resolved using company policy, or lawyers. Or… you know, severance packages. But in cases of extreme emergency, the Strexcorp CEO has the power to _invoke the contracts_. It's a delicate ritual and one I've never seen performed, though I know my father did it on occasion. Usually it would just target a particular individual or group whose activities required… addressing. But it is possible to invoke _all_ the contracts simultaneously. I dread to think what Lauren would have to do in order to pull it off, but… technically-speaking, at least, she could do it."

"And… if she did?" Cecil asks. He's gone rather pale too; most likely in response to the way his double now looks.

"Then every Strexcorp employee would effectively be soul-bound to the company," Naomi answers. "To _Lauren_. And they'd be compelled to obey her."

"…Is it only active contracts?" Dana interjects. "I mean… the people of Night Vale..?"

"The people of Night Vale are safe," Naomi tells her. "When Strex was forced to pull out, all of those contracts were nullified. Most of Desert Bluffs, however…"

"…We have to stop her…" Kevin whispers. "I… I can't let her… and she will, she'll…"

"But… but you don't have a contract with them anymore, surely?" Carlos reasons, desperately. "I mean… she fired you! After the battle!"

"Yes, she did," Kevin answers. "And when I came back here last week… after she had me touch the Bloodstone… she re-contracted me. More bluntly, she reactivated my original contract. I was never given a severance package, you see."

"Is there a way to stop it?" Cecil asks. "There must be something…"

"Oh, there is," Naomi replies. "You'd just have to destroy the physical contract. The piece of paper signed in blood. Of course, the Strex legal teams would immediately _know_ about it, but as things stand that isn't so much of a problem anymore. Not for any of us."

"Who's actually at risk?" asks Caitlin. "Out of everyone here."

"Less of us than you might think," Naomi says. "I don't have a contract on account of being a former member of the Management Board – none of the Management Board have them – and Darla doesn't have one on account of being… what did you call yourself that time?"

"A kept woman," Darla answers, grinning more than seems appropriate right now.

"…Right. Lawrence is retired so his contract is ended, and Kirsten's was voided when she was imprisoned. I checked, before anyone starts to worry, when I was looking into what had happened following her arrest. Gillian, of course, is too young, and my remaining personal enforcers have their contracts with me, not with Strex. Which just leaves…"

"…Me," Kevin says, softly. "And… James, I guess. We should warn him, too."

"And me!" Roderick squeaks, looking horrified. "I'm with the Strexcorp Science Division! Whatever do I do?!"

"You can start by staying calm," Naomi replies, in what is likely supposed to be a soothing tone. "This isn't insurmountable. Just a bit tricky. Where do you keep your contract, Roderick?"

"At home," he answers.

Naomi nods. "Then you'll be OK. A couple of us will go with you, back to your place, to find it and destroy it. So long as the physical copy is gone by noon tomorrow, when Lauren carries out the invocation, you'll be perfectly safe."

"As much as any of us is perfectly safe with that maniac around," Darla adds.

"Very true," Naomi concedes. "I'll send word to James and make sure he destroys his contract as well – assuming he hasn't already – and I'll warn our other allies too. Now. Kevin. Where's yours?"

Kevin is looking increasingly horrified, and it's terrifying to see him like this. "It was at my place," he answers. "My old place. But Strex will have seized it when they fired me."

"…Actually, they didn't," Kirsten interjects, softly.

Suddenly, everyone is staring in her direction, but this doesn't seem to throw her. On the contrary, she looks better than she has in days. "They didn't?" Kevin whispers.

Kirsten shakes her head. "No. Don't you remember? Maybe you don't. Maybe… maybe that awful _thing_ in the centre of town was still affecting your mind too much, but… when Hartley sent you out to Night Vale, you left the house with me. Signed over legal control of it until you got back, so I could watch it for you. Only… only you never got back."

Her voice wavers a little, but she doesn't let it stop her. "And though Strex arrested me… they hadn't got as far as seizing my assets before you got me out. So your old house… technically, Kevin, it's still mine. Still _yours_."

Her brother claps his hands over his mouth in a mixture of relief and delight, before hurrying over and dragging his sister into a hug. "That means there's still a chance!" he exclaims, the relief writ large in his expression.

"You have to go there," Naomi says. "You have to go there today, find that contract, and destroy it."

"Darn right I do," Kevin agrees. "And…"

All of a sudden, he's looking at his two boyfriends. "…You want to come with me? I mean, I'm going to need backup anyway, but… you know…"

"…Are you _blushing?_ " Cecil pushes, gently.

"Absolutely not," Kevin insists. But he is.

"Shouldn't we warn everyone?" Carlos asks. "I mean… beyond our immediate allies? Surely there are other people in town now who wouldn't want to end up effectively soul-bound to Strexcorp?"

"You're right, we should," Naomi agrees, with a careful expression. "And we will. But… only once our immediate allies are all in the clear. If we tip our hand and reveal what we know, Strex will take steps to stop us. _Lauren_ will take steps to stop us. And if that's the case… we need to make sure our people are safe first. Once that's done, however… yes. We should warn the entire town."

"Another broadcast?" Cecil reasons, smiling.

"It would be the best way," Kevin concurs, exchanging a look with his double.

"Quite," Naomi says. "Although we need an alternative broadcast location. I don't want to risk sending you back to the main studio, given what happened last time. Some of us can look into it whilst you're dealing with Kevin's contract. But first – and speaking of what happened last time – I believe Steve has a story to finish?"

" _Thank_ you," Steve says, pointedly. " _So_. After Lauren's meeting was over, Roderick and I… we sort of got locked in the building…"

He looks a little sheepish, and Cecil is now clearly fighting the urge not to laugh. "What, and Mr _Prominent User of the Dark Net_ couldn't bypass the lock?"

Steve glowers at him. "Of course I could. Unfortunately what I _couldn't_ bypass was the quartet of enforcers standing guard right outside it. And I didn't want to summon Bharaieogh again, because I was scared he might burn _that_ building down too and it would be a bit obvious. And I knew Cyberghost would want us to survive and stay hidden so we could get back here and tell you all precisely what I've just told you. Which seems to have been rather important!"

"Indeed," says Naomi, levelly. "Go on."

"So we hid in the building all night, and come the morning… we managed to sneak out when all the employees were arriving for the day. Once we were free, I got back in touch with Cyberghost and he said we should come up here as soon as possible."

"So far, so good," Naomi replies. "But… why summon the demon again?"

Steve shrugs. "Cyberghost said you had choppers protecting this place now, and I didn't want them mistaking me for a bad guy and lobbing rocks at my head. So I summoned Bharaieogh to give me some backup."

"…Don't you think you'd've looked _more_ conspicuous with a demon in tow?" Cecil says, pointedly.

"Well, fine, OK, so I misjudged that part," Steve concedes, looking sullen. "And when the rocks started flying, we ran. And panicked a little. Which… which is why Bharaieogh had to break the door down. For which I am sorry. But… I'm back, so…"

"Yes," Caitlin says, smiling. "Yes, you are." And she kisses him again, looking so relieved that even Cecil opts not to comment further.

"There's just one question left," Naomi says, as the couple break apart. "I'm sure I'm not the only person thinking it."

"I would say not," Carlos agrees, confident he knows what she's talking about. "In fact, if that spreadsheet existed, a lot of it would have gone red right now."

"I would imagine so," Naomi replies.

"A clue?" Pamela pushes, from where she's been lurking on the edge of all this, paying careful attention. "For those of us who don't speak conspiracy-theorist."

" _Truth-seeker!_ " Steve exclaims.

"…That," Pamela concedes, idly.

"Cyberghost616," Carlos says. "Whoever they are… they knew Steve had been abducted. Knew where he was, and where we were, and that we'd be very interested in what Lauren was up to. Interested enough to risk sending Steve to find out. They also knew that Frederick's double was around, and was of a mindset to help us. Some of these things aren't a massive leap, but all of them together? Whoever Cyberghost616 is… they're either profoundly psychic – which is of course impossible – or… they're in this room right now."

There's a sudden silence. Much as it seems clear that Cyberghost is on their side, it's still a little alarming to know whoever it is has been lurking in their midst all this time.

"Is… is that true?" Steve says, and Carlos realises the man is talking to his illusive hacker friend. Whoever they are. "If you're here… powers, I'd _love_ to meet you. You're _the_ smartest guy I know, and I…"

"…What if I'm not a guy at all?" comes a soft voice from the back of the crowd. A soft, female voice.

And, from amidst the swath of revolutionaries… Gillian steps forward, laptop tucked under her arm, smartphone in hand.

And Carlos is suddenly ready to kick himself. _Of course_. Of course!

"…You?!" Steve exclaims, looking stunned. "But… but I thought…"

His stepdaughter's double gives a little grin. "…What?" she says, softly. "You thought I was a guy?"

"Well… yes, but… I mean… you're thirteen!"

Gillian shrugs. "So I started young. When I was eight, as it happens. Hence the rather ridiculous web-handle. Sort of got stuck with it."

"…Steve, this is completely priceless," Cecil says, expression positively delighted. "You were outdone by a thirteen-year-old."

"Oh, shush, Cecil, and show some respect," Steve retorts. "She's not just some thirteen-year-old, she's _Cyberghost616_. She's, like… Dark Net royalty!"

"Sorry I lost track of you that time," Gillian goes on. "I didn't mean to, only _somebody_ was using all my bandwidth!"

" _Hey!_ " Kevin protests. "So I may have been doing a little downloading. So what? Besides, I didn't realise I had the master of the internet as my niece!"

"…Are you people aware that you're all insane?" says Bharaieogh, shaking his head.

"I'm afraid so," Carlos tells him.

But it certainly fits with the day they're having. And then some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was such a joy in so many ways! I've been waiting _months_ to finally write Hiram - he was always my choice for mayor, at least until Hidden Gorge announced Dana, at which point I was all OMGYES. Plus I got to bring Steve back at last, and do the Cyberghost reveal as well (that one, I assure you, has been in the plans for a _very_ long time!)
> 
> And... Bharaieogh. He is a _monumental_ in-joke - earlier in the year, I was doing another playthrough of Skyrim (aka digital crack for procrastinating writers) and my character got very attached to the summonable dremora (minor demon) that you can call on. For reasons lost in the mists of time I ended up calling him 'Barry', and he became a whole part of my character's mythos and so on. I decided I wanted to slip a reference to him into the fic - because of all the backstory I've built up about demon-summoning - but obviously he needed a long, complicated name like Azatothoth, Ozhen'ipleth or H'ygragagogoth, which would then be shortened to 'Barry'. I asked Davechicken to help me think of one, and she suggested - instead - having 'Barry' spelt the weirdest way possible... and how could I resist that? ;-)


	18. Back To The Start

_Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry_  
 _You don't know how lovely you are_  
 _I had to find you, tell you I need you_  
 _Tell you I'll set you apart_  
 _Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions_  
 _Oh let's go back to the start_

~ Coldplay: _'The Scientist'_

***

The sun is dropping towards the horizon as Cecil, Carlos and Kevin set out in Naomi's van (because, ironically, it is still the least conspicuous vehicle they have). It's just the three of them this time, because this… this is personal.

Carlos is nervous. Carlos is often nervous, so this in itself is not unusual, but it's a very specific kind of nervousness right now.

It's a long time since he last saw Kevin's house. A very long time indeed. Almost three years, in fact, and… the memories hurt. Yes, it helps that everything worked out in the end. It helps enormously. It helps that he's here with them both, that he _has_ them both.

But it doesn't change the memories. It doesn't erase the echoes of that morning: the last morning. The morning he'd stood at Kevin's window and watched the sunrise, like so many other mornings, only… only that was the morning that Kevin had told Carlos he loved him. That was the morning Carlos had said the same in return. It had felt so wonderful, so amazing, so enormous, and yet… that evening, he'd been driving out of Desert Bluffs as fast as he could, leaving everything behind. Leaving _Kevin_ behind.

Fully intent on never, ever coming back.

And the worst part is… Carlos is never quite sure whether he'd undo that day, if he could. Yes, running out on Kevin like that had been harsh. Maybe unforgivable, even taking into account the events of the Hostile Takeover Attempt. But… if Carlos hadn't done it, he'd never have moved to Night Vale. Never have met Cecil. Never have – eventually – let himself fall for the man too. And when Strex had come to Night Vale, when _Kevin_ had been sent there… what then? What might have..?

It's best not to think about it. The universe is twisty enough as it is. Playing what-if with it is mind-breaking at best and lethal at worst.

He's dragged from his shadowy reverie by Kevin's voice, from up front. "…We're here."

There's a little hesitation in his tone, too, and Carlos realises that the man probably expected never to see the place again either.

He's parked close to the front door, with the van angled so that they're out of view of the street, and therefore able to get inside without being seen. And this is doubly helpful, not only from a technical perspective, but also because it gives Carlos a moment to stand and stare up at the house in question.

It's… just the way he remembers, right down to Kevin's convenient hide-a-key under the left-hand flowerpot. Kevin retrieves said key and opens the door, pausing a moment on the threshold before he steps inside, and then beckons for them to follow.

Inside is just as Carlos remembers too, albeit with that over-tidied and slightly Spartan edge of a place whose owner expected to be gone for some time. Probably not this much time, however.

"…Well..?" Kevin murmurs, oddly quietly, after a long moment.

"It's… not what I expected," Cecil replies. "It's so… _normal_."

This makes Kevin grin, albeit wryly. "What _were_ you expecting? Mounted animal heads and swaying chains?"

"Er… well, yes, kind of," Cecil admits. "I mean, given what you were like when we first met…"

"I'm still the same person, Cecil," Kevin reminds him. "I'm just… able to think clearly now. Though I do have a large summoning circle in the back garden, which might be closer to what you expected. And I imagine the bookshelves won't disappoint." He smiles again, still wryly. "This is still easier than the first time I saw _your_ place."

"That's because none of us is covered in their own blood," Carlos points out. "And – for once – there aren't any bodies in the street."

"Touché," Kevin concedes. "Well. We'd better deal with my contract first, and then I guess I'll give you the tour… such as it is, at least." He headtilts towards a door off to the left. "Come on through to my study."

Cecil looks surprised. "…You have a _study?_ "

"I was a very loyal Strexcorp employee," Kevin reminds him. "What loyal Strexcorp employee _doesn't_ have a workplace in their home?"

"…Good point," Cecil says.

The room in question was always Carlos' favourite. Bookshelves on three of the four walls and a big, lovely wooden desk dead-centre that… oh, there's a memory that he…

…OK, don't think about that now.

Kevin pulls aside a false panel at the base of one of the bookshelves and withdraws a large, metal strongbox. Once he's got it open – and Carlos really doesn't think he's ever going to get used to bloodlocks, no matter how hard he tries – he lifts out a vivid orange folder from among the other documents and lays it on the desk, not looking at it until he's relocked and replaced the box.

Then he looks, though – from the expression in his eyes – he doesn't want to.

"Is that it?" Cecil asks.

Kevin nods. "Yes. That's it."

He reaches out, cautiously, almost as if he were approaching a landmine rather than a legal document (though in Strexcorp's case, the two seem to correlate more than a little) and flips open the orange folder. Inside is the document in question – many pages long, and written in what seems to be elaborate cursive handwriting… and not in English.

"They were so much more old-school back then," Kevin remarks, voice very flat. "It's all typed now. Still just as binding though. Strange. I… I guess I thought this moment would somehow be more ominous."

"Please don't tempt fate," Carlos implores. "I'd rather it _didn't_ start glowing, or emitting ominous chanting. Or start flying up and trying to kill you."

"Oh, Carlos, I'm sure it won't…" Kevin starts out, then pauses, and clearly decides not to tempt fate all the same.

"Well," Cecil says. "How do we destroy it?"

Kevin shrugs. "Fire ought to work." He slides open the top drawer of his desk and withdraws a flat, black lighter. "For the candles," he says, by way of explanation, which makes Cecil nod in understanding.

And makes Carlos blush. And hope neither of them notices.

"Outside," Kevin adds, picking up the contract as though vaguely concerned it might bite him. "I don't want ash on my carpets. I get enough of that when Azzie is in a bad mood."

"…I don't want to know…" Cecil murmurs.

So the three of them step out into the back garden, where there is indeed a large summoning circle laid out in the grass, formed from wide, flat golden stones. Carlos remembers the day he first saw it, although – at the time – he'd still thought all the talk about demon-summoning was a weird joke.

It does violate the laws of thermodynamics, after all. So it would make _sense_ for it not to be real.

"You know, I never thought it would come to this," Kevin says, holding the contract up, and Carlos can see where it's signed at the bottom now… in blood. "I mean, I guess I _couldn't_ think it would come to this, and maybe there were times I did think it but they made me forget, and…"

"Kevin?" Cecil interjects, softly. Gently.

"…Yes?"

"You're rambling."

"I guess I am. But I thought… I mean, even after they _fired_ me and _exiled_ me, on some level I thought…"

"…You might still go back?" Carlos asks.

Kevin nods.

"Did you want to?"

"Well, no, not when I really understood what Strexcorp is. But… it's weird, you know. Walking away from something that's been such a huge part of your life for so long."

"They did try to kill us all," Cecil reminds him. "And _worse_."

"Oh, I know," Kevin replies, voice darkening suddenly. "Believe me… _I know_."

A click, and a spark… and his contract is ablaze; orange light dancing over and through the paper… white curling to grey and then to black. And still there's nothing strange: nothing mysterious or unusual or scientifically-inexplicable. Just fire; fire claiming paper and words once and for all.

Kevin holds onto it for as long as possible, before letting the last embers drop onto the stone at the centre of his summoning circle, watching until the final ashes go dark and disappear. And then… he brushes his hands off, taking a deep breath.

"I'm free now, aren't I?" he says, softly, and there's a tremor in his voice that betrays the real weight of what he's just done.

"Yes," Cecil tells him, grasping his double's shoulder. "Yes, you are."

"Good… I… good. Yes."

The man clearly needs distracting. Luckily, Cecil seems to have this well in hand. "So…" he says, with a smile, "time for the grand tour?"

This makes Kevin brighten considerably. "Now that, I can do…"

***

It really is strange, seeing the place again, and Carlos finds himself a little lost in memory as he tags on behind the other two. Cecil seems to be enjoying himself – which is more than enough to help Kevin return to his usual, cheery mood – and, in different circumstances, Carlos is confident he could just happily relax and listen to them.

But this… oh, this is not what he expected to feel. Not at all.

"You're weirdly quiet," Cecil says to him, as – tour over – they settle in the kitchen whilst Kevin tries to work out if he's got any coffee stashed away.

"Sorry," Carlos replies. "I'm just… well, I'll be honest, this is strange."

"You didn't expect to see it again either, I guess," Kevin remarks, before giving a little cheer as he discovers he does indeed have coffee, meaning he immediately goes to fire up his espresso machine.

"No," Carlos admits. "I really didn't."

"…You don't have to tread lightly, you know," Kevin says, and Carlos realises too late that the man is about to go for broke, and can't stop him once he does. "I mean… OK, yes, I didn't exactly enjoy the way things ended between the two of us, and I'm sure you didn't either. But… there were good times before that. And _amazing_ times since. And… the destination was worth it, even if the road was hard."

Cecil smiles. "Someone's feeling philosophical today."

Kevin shrugs. "I guess I am. It's… hard not to, right now."

"And Kevin makes a good point," Cecil goes on, turning back to Carlos. "I mean… you don't ever talk about what things were like when the two of you were together. I barely know how you even met. But… you don't have to be afraid of talking about it, I promise. I wasn't in the picture at all back then. It isn't as though you were betraying me, and… honestly? I'd like to know the story. I mean… the two of you are adorable together. Why wouldn't I want to know?"

It's hard to tell who is blushing more at this point – Kevin or Carlos – though Kevin is at least better at dealing with it. "It's no more adorable than you two and your bowling alley story," he points out, with a smile.

"Adorable?" Cecil exclaims. "It wasn't adorable, it was terrifying! I thought he was _dead!_ "

"Well, OK, that part maybe," Kevin concedes. "But the rest of it? Seriously, wow. I have to admit… I teared-up a little…"

"…Wait, what?"

"I persuaded Intern Janelle to pull the tapes of your broadcast from that day," Kevin admits, looking far less guilty than perhaps he should.

"…It was a very emotional afternoon…" Cecil murmurs, and Carlos reaches to grip his hand. "And now you have to tell your story. Just for that."

"Gladly," Kevin says, handing them a cup of coffee each. "Although… I think Carlos would tell it better."

"You're a radio broadcaster," Carlos insists. "You make a living re-telling stories!"

Kevin nods. "Very true. But this is _your_ story… and I know you're the best one to tell it."

There's no preventing it now. Carlos is just going to have to do it, and trust that Cecil really won't mind.

"…All right," he concedes, holding up his hands for a moment. "All right."

Well, then. OK. Where to start? The beginning? When is the beginning?

"…All right. It starts, as these things so often do, with a man standing at a window…"

***

**_Spring 2011_ **

In the light of a deep red sunrise, a scientist named Carlos stands at the window in his new apartment and tries to work out – for quite some time – if he has, in fact, completely lost his mind.

Right now, he's staring out at a view that defies description. Defies _reason_. He'd been told that Desert Bluffs was weird, but now that he's _seen_ it, he's convinced that 'weird' needs to be redefined.

The town is _coated_ in blood. How does that even _work?_ Where does it all _come_ from and why doesn't it..?

…OK, no, on second thoughts, don't think about it.

He's moved out to this insane place in order to do various pieces of research. The job is based here – it's being funded by some local company called Strexcorp Synernists Inc, who Carlos had never heard of before he applied for the position – though it's mostly autonomous, which is exactly what he needs right now.

He needs… well. He needs to work out what direction his life is supposed to be going in. This is hard to tell at the best of times, but for the last couple of years it's been virtually impossible. So. New town, new start, maybe re-invent himself a little (but not too drastically) and…

…well. Something.

But he didn't expect the place in question to be so utterly weird. And downright _unsettling_. And… OK, seriously, does it hum like that _all_ the time?

Weird.

You have to do some strange things in the name of science, though. So. Carlos makes himself a promise: he'll give it a week. He'll give it a week and then he'll re-evaluate. If nothing else, it will make a great story to tell at the next college reunion.

***

After a few days, punctuated by nights fraught with the most graphic dreams, Carlos is beginning to think even a week will be impossible. This place makes no sense and it is very, _very_ messed up. Even way beyond what a scientist can endure for the sake of science.

He's contemplating options when the email comes through: an invitation to give a talk at the upcoming Strexcorp Scientific Symposium that's being held on Thursday. Carlos _does_ like discussing science, and if it's a full-on symposium then there will likely be _other_ scientists there whose eyes won't glass over when he starts talking about how much he loves thermodynamics.

And that would be nice.

And he said a week, so a week it will be.

So he accepts.

***

At least the conference centre isn't filled with blood. It's _coated_ in it, but the inside feels mostly normal, provided he doesn't look out the windows too often. This certainly aids Carlos' concentration during his talk – on the practical applications of micro-singularities – and, all in all, it seems to go well.

Midway through the afternoon, everyone breaks for coffee. This is something that Carlos can _entirely_ get behind. And it's just as he's settling at one of the tables, about to pull out his phone and read today's featured article on Wikipedia (so he can correct it as necessary), that he sees the man for the first time…

…No. Not the first time. He was in the front row during Carlos' talk, wasn't he? And Carlos is confident that it's the same man who approaches him now, with an odd look in his eyes.

And, OK, yes, said eyes are black as obsidian. But everyone here seems to have the same thing, and – in the grand scheme of it all – it's hardly the weirdest aspect of Desert Bluffs.

"Hi there," the man says, with a smile. "You're Carlos, right? I was listening to the talk you gave."

"That's right," Carlos answers, carefully.

"I'm Kevin. Do you have a moment..?"

He looks hopeful, and he seems pleasant enough. Carlos gestures to the seat opposite him, and the other man accepts, settling calmly with his hands clasped on the tabletop.

"So… is there something you wanted to ask?" Carlos prompts. "Are you a scientist too?"

"Oh, no, no, I'm a journalist. A radio broadcaster, actually. I present the flagship show on our local station. And I was wondering… would you be interested in doing an interview? You were _so_ good when you were talking before and I bet people would love to hear more. And… you know, you're new in town, and we don't get many new faces in Desert Bluffs."

"You're… saying I'm newsworthy?"

"Sure you are!" Kevin tells him, brightly. 'Brightly' is an excellent adjective to describe the guy. His demeanour is bright. His smile is bright. His clothing is definitely bright (it takes a certain kind of man to pull off orange, even in moderation). If nothing else, he's uplifting to be around.

"All right, then," Carlos agrees. "Why not?"

"Wonderful!" Kevin exclaims. "Oh, I can't _wait_ to tell my producer. Is tomorrow good?"

"Uh… sure, tomorrow's good." Being in control of your own schedule does have its benefits, after all.

"Perfect! Just come on down to the station in the early afternoon, and I'll talk you through it. You'll be great!"

Carlos can't help a smile of his own. The other man has such an easy, calming manner, and – let's be honest here – he's really rather good-looking as well. But… surely he's just being friendly. And anyway, the good-looking ones always turn out to be straight, or spoken for. Or – usually – both.

…And now Carlos is mentally rambling away to himself and the guy probably thinks he's crazy or something.

Why does he always do this?

"So how are you liking Desert Bluffs so far?" Kevin asks him, seeming completely unfazed by the pause.

"It's… different," Carlos manages.

"New people usually say that," Kevin replies. "But you'll soon settle in. And the weather is always _very_ generous. Four hundred and fifty-seven days of sunshine a year!"

Carlos stares. "…Er… there's only three hundred and sixty-five-point-two-five days _in_ a year…"

"Oh, sure, I know that," Kevin answers, still entirely unfazed. "But we get plenty of extra sunshine nonetheless. It's a Strexcorp policy."

"I… see. You work for them too?"

"Pretty much _everyone_ here does. Strexcorp _is_ Desert Bluffs. But don't worry, they take _really_ good care of the place."

"That's… reassuring to know."

" _Well_ ," Kevin now says, tone ever-bright, "I must be getting on. It was _delightful_ to meet you, and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow!"

"Yes," Carlos agrees. "I'll see you then."

***

And so, early on Friday afternoon, Carlos heads down to the radio station in the centre of Desert Bluffs, following the directions on Google Maps. The place isn't difficult to find, and soon he's heading in through the front door, staring around at…

…OK, wow, they apparently go for the 'blood indoors' look here…

It's just as he's about to head up to the receptionist that a man appears from one of the doors further in: a man wearing a garish suit and a rather more garish tie, with a smile even brighter and broader than seems to be standard in Desert Bluffs.

"Oh, hey there!" he says, hurrying across and offering a hand. "You here to see someone?"

"Uh… yes, I was invited over by a guy called Kevin, to do an interview for his show…"

"Ah, you must be Carlos!" the man exclaims, his enthusiasm for anything and everything seeming nigh-on boundless. "I'm Ted. I'm the station's weatherman."

"Good to meet you," Carlos replies. "So… uh… is Kevin here?"

"I'll bet I can find him for you," Ted says. "He got in about half an hour ago. I think he said something about having an editorial to finish and… aha, there he is!"

At this point, Kevin himself emerges from another of the doors further in, and from the look on his face he's following the sound of their voices. Ted's especially, given that it carries. "Ah, Carlos, you made it!" he says, hurrying down to them. "I see you met Ted."

"I did," Carlos answers. "He was being very… friendly."

"That just comes as standard at Desert Bluffs Community Radio!" Ted exclaims. "Well, Kevin, I'll leave you and your guest to talk shop…" He grins, though his expression is suddenly all eyebrows, and Carlos gets the feeling there's something unspoken passing between his host and the weatherman.

He isn't sure precisely what, though.

Ted wanders off – with one last wave – leaving Kevin to turn to Carlos. "I was just finishing up my prep for today's show," he says. "Come sit with me and we can work out what to discuss during your segment."

Carlos still isn't sure why a small-town radio broadcaster is so interested in him, but… well, it's nice, and it's certainly different, so he isn't going to argue.

***

It ends up being, beyond a shadow of a doubt, his best afternoon since he arrived. The interview itself goes off without a hitch, despite Carlos worrying that he might find himself without a clue what to say. They cover various snippets about his current research – pitched at a slightly more accessible level for the benefit of the listeners – as well as a few things about him, too.

And… it's kind of enjoyable, in a strange way. Kevin is a large part of this. The man is so warm and charming and funny, and Carlos finds he really likes being around him. Once his interview is done, he sits and listens to the rest of the show – at Kevin's invitation – and, as it comes to a close, he finds himself sorry to see it end. He's definitely going to have to start listening in at home, that's for sure.

"Well, how was that for you?" Kevin asks him, with a grin, as he pulls off his headset and sits back. How he manages not to end up covered in blood in this insane place is hard to say, but he does. Maybe it just becomes second nature after you've lived here a while.

"I thought it went well," Carlos answers. "I mean, I think maybe the part about string theory will have been a bit too much for most people, but it's so interesting that I couldn't resist including it."

"Oh no, I thought that part was _particularly_ good," Kevin replies. "And when you were explaining about all eleven dimensions, it was just so… _beautiful_ …"

There's an oddly drawn flicker in his eyes, all of a sudden, and Carlos realises that his own heart is racing more than a little. And that… well, that hasn't happened anything like this in _quite_ a while.

"…I… look," Kevin suddenly starts out, rather quickly, as if he's been daring himself to speak. "I know this is really forward and we only just met, but… do you maybe want to get coffee sometime?"

Carlos stares for far longer than he should. There is a big difference between entertaining vague notions about someone and actually hearing them ask you out, and his mind really wasn't expecting the latter.

"It's… it's OK if you don't want to," Kevin goes on, and it's the only time since they met that Carlos has ever heard the other man sound nervous. "I didn't even know if I should say anything but I think I'd regret it more if I didn't, and…"

"…Yes," Carlos answers, when Kevin trails off enough to let him respond. "Yes. I would like that."

This gets him a smile as radiant as the noonday sun. "Wonderful! I… how's tomorrow for you?"

Carlos smiles too. "Tomorrow is good."

***

'Good' turns out to be something of an understatement.

They meet the following afternoon at a trendy little coffee shop in downtown Desert Bluffs. Much like everything else here, it seems to be owned by Strexcorp – and, seriously, if they're large enough to own nigh-on an entire _city_ , why has he never heard of them before? – but the coffee itself is decent and it isn't too crowded.

And they talk. Over what ends up as three rounds of mochachinos – and some delicious miniature muffins – they talk about everything: science and radio broadcasting and good places to eat in town, and why Carlos moved out here and what life was like for Kevin growing up here, and everything else in between.

And… it's kind of awesome. Kevin just has this way of getting Carlos to talk, though he's more than happy to open up as much himself, and it's the easiest and most enjoyable conversation Carlos thinks he's had in _months_. If not longer.

"We just _have_ to do this again," Kevin says, at the end of the afternoon. "Seriously, it was _great_."

And they do indeed do it again. Over the course of the next week, they meet three more times, and Carlos doesn't even notice that his self-imposed deadline has passed, because he's having too much fun. It's more than that, though. He really, really likes being around the other man.

 _Really_ likes being around him.

They start texting too; just little snippets about their day, or things they've seen…at least until the afternoon when Carlos hears his phone beep for about the tenth time and picks it up, expecting something else to make him smile and getting rather more than that.

 _'Have dinner with me?'_ the text reads.

Carlos can't help a little grin as he replies. _'I thought you'd never ask.'_

***

If their coffee dates were fun, their first dinner date is a positive delight. At the end of it, still rather buzzed from the _very_ good bottle of wine they've shared, Carlos lets Kevin walk him home.

The sky overhead is just coming alive with glittering stars, though the air is still warm, and it's shaping up to be a lovely night. And the fact of the matter is… once you get over all the blood, this place really isn't so bad. Weird, yes. Unusual, definitely. But bad?

No.

The people are so friendly, and open, and proud of their community. And Kevin? Carlos can't remember the last time he had this much fun with someone who isn't also a scientist. Or, to be honest, with someone full-stop.

They're arm in arm right now, walking slow and close, and that's… that's lovely too.

Eventually, they pause outside the door to his apartment.

"Well, this is me," he says, headtilting towards it. "I had a _great_ time tonight."

"Me too," Kevin replies. "We have to do it again."

"Yes," Carlos agrees. "Sometime _soon_."

Kevin smiles at him. The man smiles most of the time, but something about this one seems rather more significant. And… oh, but the look in his eyes is just _intoxicating_ , and Carlos can't help wanting to just fall into them and be lost in that deep, hypnotic blackness…

And that's when Kevin kisses him. It's just quick and gentle, but Carlos is confident that the sudden dizzy wave that passes through him at the contact is now nothing to do with the wine. He stares rather a lot, momentarily dumbstruck as the other man steps back, trying to work out what to say and finding himself unable to even parse the thoughts, much less vocalise anything.

Which is when Kevin – perhaps understanding, or perhaps just going for broke – kisses him again. It's a little harder this time, and rather more drawn-out, and Carlos is grateful for the hand on his waist because it stops him worrying he's going to fall over. He does put a hand of his own on Kevin's chest, holding on somewhat, and the other man clearly likes that because it makes him deepen the kiss, sliding his free hand up to rest on the side of Carlos' face… and OK, wow, this is quite an involved clinch now.

And it feels amazing.

When they finally have to break, they don't go far, staring at each other from very close up.

"…You know, when I first got here, I wasn't sure if I was going to stay," Carlos finds himself admitting. "I mean, the place… well, I'm going to be honest, it freaked me out a little. It still does."

"What changed your mind?" Kevin asks him, softly.

" _You did_ ," Carlos replies.

This gets him kissed a third time, the hardest and deepest of the lot, and it feels so good that he wraps both arms around the other man, giving in to the kiss completely. And that… _wow_ , that is liberating…

"I should let you go," Kevin whispers, as the latest kiss breaks.

 _No_ , Carlos thinks. _Don't let me go. Don't ever let me go_. But he's still sensible enough not to say this out loud, and thereby end up sounding like a crazy person.

"All right," he replies, instead. "Call me?"

"I will," Kevin promises. "Trust me, I will."

And when Carlos gets inside, he staggers back against the wall, trying to gather his thoughts and suddenly grinning from ear to ear.

 _That_ went well.

***

Their second proper date is even more of a success: doubly-so because they get to the kissing part rather sooner, and thereby have plenty of time to devote to it. And OK, yes, maybe that means they're behaving like a pair of overly-excitable teenagers, but… Carlos can't remember when he last felt like this. He's not even sure he ever really has. But when he's with Kevin… the whole world feels _right_.

So when the other man calls, the very next day, Carlos is already hopeful.

"I can't wait to see you again," Kevin tells him. "And I… I sort of wondered… would you maybe like to come round to my place one evening? I could make us dinner and open a bottle of something good…"

"You had me at 'I can't wait to see you again'," Carlos replies. "And yes, I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

So here he is, two nights later, knocking at the door to Kevin's house. The other man lets him in almost at once, and before Carlos even knows it he's been pushed into the wall and kissed.

 _Wow_ , but that's good. Kevin grins at him as the kiss breaks. "Well, hey you," he says. "I'm glad you made it."

"Me too," Carlos replies. "You realise this neighbourhood almost doesn't want you to find it..?"

"Oh, that can sometimes happen round here," Kevin answers, offhand. "It's normal."

"…I'll get used to it, right?" Carlos asks, with a grin of his own.

"Right!" Kevin agrees, and kisses him again. "Now… I was just about to open us a bottle. So what do you think… Franchia or Luftnarp?"

" _Definitely_ Luftnarp," Carlos replies. "Franchian is _very_ overrated."

"A man after my own heart!" Kevin exclaims.

They have dinner – which is indeed good – and wine – which is even more so – and eventually they settle on the couch with the last of said wine. And… Carlos is confident he knows where all this is going. To be honest, he's known since Kevin first invited him over, and _merciful Einstein_ , he is _very_ much in favour of the idea. And all evening, he's been hopeful but patient and _now_ … why is he suddenly so darnedly nervous?

Why does he always do this?

"Well," he starts out, and he knows the moment he speaks that Kevin is going to be able to read the emotion in his voice, but it's too late to stop now. "What shall we do next? We could… see if there's any good movies on…"

Kevin puts a hand on his knee. "Yes," he says, in that level and certain voice that sends Carlos' mind reeling. "We could do that. Or… you could put the wineglass down and kiss me."

At least one of them knows what they're doing. The direct suggestion certainly helps, and Carlos goes along with it almost at once, setting his glass on the nearby table and leaning in to kiss Kevin. And… seriously, is it going to feel _this_ good _every_ time? The other man arches into the contact, kissing him back, and Carlos finds himself sliding a hand up to hold on.

"You feel amazing," Kevin whispers, as the kiss breaks. "And you are, without a doubt, the most beautiful man I've ever seen…"

Now Carlos knows he's blushing. "Kiss me again," he whispers – nigh-on pleads – partly because it's so very, very lovely when Kevin does, and partly because he's more than a little lost for words at the compliment.

The kiss is deeper this time, and more drawn-out, and it leaves him breathless and _wanting_. And that's why he doesn't resist in the slightest when Kevin pushes him back on the couch, slipping into place on top of him and starting to kiss him again.

" _Yes_ ," Carlos whispers, in between. "Yes… oh, don't stop…"

This makes Kevin pause, with a wicked little grin. "You like that?" he breathes.

" _Yes_ ," Carlos repeats, somewhat more desperately. "Kevin… _please_."

"I have to ask you a question first," Kevin says and, OK, yes, there's still a fair amount of lingering wickedness in his tone, but it's more than just that. He puts a hand on the side of Carlos' face. "Do you… want to stay the night?"

Seriously… how the guy can still be such a gentleman even when he's got Carlos half-pinned to the couch and already somewhat out of his mind is hard to say, but he can. And, wow, but he really is one in a million.

" _Yes_ ," Carlos replies once more, with so very much meaning in that single word. "Yes. If you want me to."

"More than I can say…" Kevin tells him, expression lighting up, and he presses in to kiss Carlos again, first on the lips, then the jaw, and then down to the curve of his neck. And this, he will rapidly learn, is a very good way to render Carlos borderline-incoherent, though not at all quiet.

" _Oh_ yes, like that, just like that, don't stop, don't stop… _oh_ please…"

That makes Kevin laugh softly – warmly – as he kisses his way slowly back up until they're face-to-face again. "I wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes on you," he whispers. "But I didn't even dare hope that you'd reciprocate… not to start with… not until…"

"…not until I let you take me on four coffee dates in a week?" Carlos asks, with a little smile of his own.

"No," Kevin replies, expression suddenly, strangely serious. "Not until you let me kiss you."

And _oh_ , but the man always knows what to say. He always knows. His voice is like sweet wine and sunlight and Carlos just wants to lose himself in it, in _him_ , completely and utterly. He stares for a moment, caught and _loving_ it, and then pushes up for another kiss, pulling Kevin down against him and all but wrapping around him.

"And at last I have you," Kevin says, as the kiss breaks, the look in his eyes now downright _hypnotic_ – even if that kind of thing is technically a pseudo-science and thereby not science at all – and pulling Carlos further under. "So tell me then, my beautiful scientist… shall I take you to bed?"

"Yes," Carlos replies, probably faster than he should, but _damn it_ if that isn't just the best idea in the world. "Yes. Please. That. So very much that."

Kevin smiles, and kisses him again, slow and drawn-out, before pulling back and somehow extricating himself from the man beneath him with far more grace than seems possible. Then he rises to his feet, tugging Carlos upright too, and walking him towards the stairs leading to the upper floor.

They make it about halfway up before they're kissing again, Carlos dropping back against the steps with Kevin mostly on top of him once more, and OK, this may not be the most comfortable position in the world, but that doesn't stop it feeling _far_ too good. There's a wicked gleam in Kevin's eyes as he presses in to start kissing the curve of Carlos' neck, and Carlos falls back completely, any lingering resistance knocked out of him at how amazing that feels.

" _Yes_ ," he nigh-on whimpers, and seriously, what is it about the other man that can reduce him to this with nothing more than a little involved kissing? And if he's like this now, what's going to happen when..?

Even his own internal monologue hits a wall at that point, because – in the middle of the kissing – Kevin manages to sneak a hand down and start stroking over the front of Carlos' trousers. His breath catches, and he realises the other man is staring at him now with dark, intent, wonderful eyes.

"I want you," Kevin whispers. "I want you _badly_."

"I want you too," Carlos manages, even though he's so out of his mind that the words sound distant. "Please, Kevin. _Please_."

The other man's eyes somehow go darker still, and he kisses Carlos once more – quick and firm – before scrambling upright and pulling Carlos after him. They make it to the top of the stairs and crash through the door directly ahead of them, which leads into a currently-dark and spacious bedroom; bed itself close by, and a large, curtained window directly opposite.

But it's the wall on the other side that Carlos finds himself pushed into first, Kevin kissing him over and over in between starting to pull both their clothes off. And the feeling as his hands slip over Carlos' skin for the first time… _oh_ , it's positively delicious, and Carlos can't hold back a shiver of delight.

"Good?" Kevin asks him, softly.

" _Yes_ ," Carlos breathes. "Please don't stop."

Kevin seems more than happy to oblige, turning after another moment and urging Carlos to lie back on the bed, which means the man can tug the rest of his clothes off, and… wow, it's been a long time. It really has. Though that isn't why Carlos needs this so badly.

It's Kevin. Right now, his touch seems more vital to life than oxygen.

Kevin pulls off the last of his own clothing, tossing it aside and slipping on top of Carlos, starting to kiss him again, skin-to-skin and positively _gorgeous_ in the low lighting; a force of nature with a wicked smile.

"I want you," Carlos whispers, pulling Kevin in close, shivering again at how good that feels. "I _need_ you."

"You have me," Kevin reassures him, laying a gentle kiss on his lips. "You have me. You're shaking, you know. Do I scare you?"

"No," Carlos replies, though on some level, he's aware this isn't wholly true. "No. When I'm with you I feel…" Safe? Right? "… _alive_."

"Good," Kevin breathes. "I want you to. I want you to feel as wonderful as you make _me_ feel…"

And there's the barest flicker of vulnerability beneath his tone at that; the same vulnerability Carlos saw when Kevin first asked him out. It's only there for a second, but somehow this doesn't lessen its impact. Or its importance.

"I want that too," Carlos replies. "Just… please take it slow? Much as I love the enthusiasm, I'm a little worried you might break me…"

Kevin smiles again. "You've done this before, right?" he asks, with a gently teasing edge to his tone.

Carlos bats at him. "Of course. But… not for a really long time. I… have a tendency to get caught up in my work."

"Carlos, when I'm done with you, you'll be lucky if you can still _spell_ 'science'," Kevin purrs, and Carlos feels his own breath catch in delight.

"You and your promises…" he murmurs.

"Well, you can rest assured of one thing: I always deliver on them."

"I'm glad to hear it," Carlos replies – or tries to, at least, because he only gets as far as 'glad' before Kevin kisses him. _Hard_. He wraps his arms up and holds on tight, letting the other man take the lead, and it feels so very good. _So_ very good. His eyes are dark as the kiss breaks – perhaps not as dark as Kevin's, but close – and he stares up at the man on top of him in sudden hope.

"Can I let you in on a little secret?" Kevin murmurs, starting to kiss slowly down the side of Carlos' neck, and – not wanting to interrupt – Carlos manages a nod of agreement. "It's been quite a long time for me, too. _But you were worth the wait_."

And before Carlos can try to work out how to respond to such a compliment – how _do_ you respond to such a compliment? – Kevin saves him the trouble by kissing him again, whilst pushing a hand down between his legs and starting to stroke him slowly.

And that's… _oh_ , but that's so very good, and… _so_ very good, and Carlos is vaguely aware that Kevin is left-handed and that means it's sort of interesting and more like when he… and…

…OK, since when has he been _this_ needy? Yes, he enjoys attention, but right now it feels so good that he'd happily promise Kevin the world just to make sure he doesn't stop.

"You like that?" Kevin asks, and Carlos realises he's been making soft, incoherent sounds of approval all this time. He nods in response, which causes Kevin's smile to brighten all the more. "I'm glad. Although the little murmurs were something of a giveaway…"

Suddenly desperate to provoke a few responses of his own – before he loses himself in this completely – Carlos pushes a hand up and starts to stroke Kevin at the same time as the other man is stroking him. And, OK, yes, for reasons of tessellation he has to use his left hand as opposed to his right, but hey, ambidexterity is a wonderful thing…

…And only he would think that at a time like this. He's quickly distracted, though, because Kevin kisses him hard at the contact, arching in over him and not stopping his ministrations. Not even slightly.

" _Yes_ ," Kevin half-whispers, half-growls in his ear. "Like that. Just like that. _Merciless Azatothoth_ , I want you so badly."

Carlos has no idea who – or what – Kevin has just invoked, but there's plenty of strange things about Desert Bluffs he hasn't gotten to grips with yet. And besides… right now he's a little busy, and the words he does understand ratchet up that need all the more.

"Then I'm yours," he gasps. "All yours. And now would be the time to take advantage of that…"

He hopes his meaning is clear. Really, really hopes. He's never been so good at the talking part, and it's even more challenging right now.

The strange thing about Kevin is the way his whole face can light up even as his eyes are somehow going darker, and it's a reaction Carlos is fast learning how to provoke. The other man kisses him again before he speaks, voice rough with a mixture of need and hope. "You're… sure?" he asks.

Carlos nods. "Five-sigma sure. Which is scientifically certain."

That makes Kevin give a soft, affectionate laugh, and then – very suddenly – he takes hold of both of Carlos' hands and pins them either side of his head, in a flurry of movement that knocks all the air from Carlos' lungs. "Well, then," he says, in a tone Carlos hasn't heard from Kevin so far; a tone that makes him want to lie back and give himself over to the other man's will, and… OK, that's strange, he's never quite felt this way before… "Who am I to argue with that?"

He smiles and kisses Carlos again, and the odd moment passes… although Carlos can't help wondering what it would be like if it came back. Can't… help hoping it might. _What?_ Since when has he..?

He's distracted again – perhaps mercifully – as Kevin leans over to the nightstand, getting hold of the lubricant he so _thoughtfully_ keeps within reach, and slicking two fingers with it.

" _Please_ ," Carlos whispers, as that hand moves between his legs again. "Please… please…"

And those words are still slipping his lips as Kevin slides first one then two fingers into him, making his eyes close for a moment as he surrenders to the sensations every movement brings, hands gripping the sheets at his sides.

"Good?" Kevin purrs, the word a breath across his skin.

Carlos stares back at him. " _Yes_ ," he gasps. "I need you. _I need you_."

Kevin laughs softly, warmly, and kisses slowly up the side of his neck. "And you have me. You've had me from the second I laid eyes on you."

"Kiss me," Carlos pleads, trying not to blush, and the other man obliges all at once, kissing him firmly on the lips, tongue slipping deeper as his fingers do the same, and every last movement feels as though it is blissfully, gloriously pulling Carlos apart.

"I don't think you've ever looked more beautiful than you do now," Kevin whispers, as the kiss ends. "And that is really saying something. Although… I can't help but wonder how you'll look when you're _breaking_ with pleasure beneath my hands…"

Never mind that, Carlos is confident the other man could undo him with nothing but his wonderful, wonderful voice. Not that he's averse to the other thing. Far from it. "Why don't you find out?" he says, aiming for a mixture of sultry and provocative and hoping he gets at least vaguely close to both.

Whether he does or doesn't, it certainly works. Kevin kisses him once more, just as hard, and then pulls his fingers back, going for the lubricant again and, in a moment, he's pushing into Carlos, slow and careful.

" _Yes_ ," Carlos gasps, although it takes him a second to realise that Kevin has just gasped the same; that the man on top of him suddenly looks raptured beyond belief. He moves once, twice… and then they both lose any lingering restraint in exactly the same instant; hands all over each other, hips moving, soft whispers in between firm, deep kisses.

And it is bliss. Not the bliss of completion – though that can't be far off – but the bliss of some strange _rightness_. As if both of them have been looking for this for a very long time and can't quite get over having found it. Carlos wraps his arms up around Kevin, holding on, needing him more than he could put into words.

But he doesn't need words. He has this. And this… says more than he ever could. This is the world as he's never seen it before: perfectly imperfect, rationally irrational. An act born of a biological imperative, that means more than biology could ever explain.

Even if it was a proper science. Which it isn't.

" _Come for me_ ," Kevin gasps in Carlos' ear, free hand suddenly stroking him again, and it's all Carlos can do to process the words before completion rips through him like a tidal wave; reality going white under the physical and emotional overload. He knows he's cried out, but somehow doubts there was any coherence in it, and yet… trusts he's made his feelings clear all the same. For once.

And it only takes Kevin a moment to follow him over that edge, forehead pressed against Carlos' as the climax tears through him as well, and – somehow finding the strength – Carlos holds him close until the last tremors subside and they both collapse against each other, trying to catch their breath.

"…Wow…" Kevin breathes. "I… that was… _wow_ …"

Carlos smiles. "…Tell me about it," he murmurs in reply.

It's another moment before either of them can move; Kevin finally pulling back and shifting his weight so he's not lying right on top of Carlos, but still half-curled over him. Exactly where Carlos wants the other man to stay. He strokes fingertips down the side of Kevin's cheek, staring up at him, aware he's a little rapt but seeing no reason not to be.

"…Well," Kevin says, when the long, comfortable silence has run its course. "Has your evening been a success?"

"I think it has," Carlos replies. "I could probably come up with several ways to prove it, too. Using graphs."

This makes Kevin smile at him. "I never knew dating a scientist would be so… involved."

"Ah, so we're dating now, are we..?" Carlos says, with a smile of his own, and, OK, the endorphins are definitely making him unusually daring. Either that, or Kevin brings it out in him.

Or both.

The other man's expression brightens all the more. "I think we might be. I mean, I know how you scientists like to be _very_ certain about things, but all the wine and kissing and insanely good sex is probably proof enough, right?"

Carlos manages something of a headtilt. "You could be onto something there. Although… you did claim that 'when you were done with me' I'd be lucky if I could still spell 'science'. And… well: S-C-I-E-N-C-E."

That just makes Kevin lean in over him, expression suddenly wicked once more. "Oh, Carlos," he says, soft and full of promise, "now when did I say I was done with you..?"

And he really isn't. Not in the slightest.

***

**_Summer 2014_ **

As Carlos' story finally comes to a close, he realises the other two are staring at him: Kevin with a wistful expression, and Cecil seeming borderline-rapt.

"…And… there you have it, I guess," Carlos says, suddenly becoming very interested in the remains of his coffee. "That's how we met."

Cecil smiles. "Carlos… that's more than just how you met." But he looks a mixture of amused and adoring, which is a relief.

"Well, OK, how we got together, then," Carlos concedes.

"And it makes me think," Kevin adds, "we should do Date Night sometime soon, once all this insanity is over. A proper one. Because… well, you and I did, and you and Cecil did, but Cecil and I…"

This makes his double grin a little. "Kevin, it is hardly my fault if you chose to court me by repeatedly stabbing people, hitting on my boyfriend, and then being so damnably heroic that you broke me on the spot."

"I didn't think an invitation for coffee would work so well in your case," Kevin replies, far too easily. "And let us not forget that you did _actually_ hit me. _Twice_."

"…Only in the heat of the moment!" Cecil protests, going somewhat pink. "To defend Carlos' honour!"

"…You two fighting over my honour was very distracting," Carlos murmurs. "It's a wonder I didn't lose my composure sooner. Like when you were still covered in blood in my lab. And… OK, we don't have to get back to Naomi's place too quickly, do we?"

"Oh no," Kevin replies, _smiling_. "We don't."

"Good," Cecil agrees. "So, that lovely big bed upstairs? How long will it take you to find sheets for it?"

Kevin practically bats his eyelashes at his double, and Carlos is suddenly very glad he's sitting down. "Oh, Cecil," Kevin purrs. "As if we're going to _make it_ all the way upstairs…"

They don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated (OK, for about five minutes, but thought still happened!) whether to include the flashback sequence or not. I know it isn't essential to the present plot, but I really wanted the chance to show how Carlos and Kevin first met, given that everyone knows how it happened for Carlos and Cecil. If I'd known what I was writing when I started _On The Nature..._ then that sequence might well have been the bulk of the opening chapter, but at the time I'd only gotten as far as 'this weird AU-thing that the scientist won't shut up about'.
> 
> So... there you have it. I hope it works!


	19. Radioactive

_I raise my flags, don my clothes_  
_It's a revolution, I suppose_  
_We're painted red to fit right in_

~ Imagine Dragons: _'Radioactive'_

***

It's some time later, and the three men are in Kevin's living room, having – indeed – got no further than that.

Cecil is sitting on the floor with his back to the closest couch and Carlos is half-curled in his lap, whilst Kevin lies next to them, flat on his back and staring somewhat blissfully at the ceiling.

And none of them have any clothes on.

"…Merciless Azatothoth, I feel better now…" Kevin murmurs, in between idly drawing lovehearts on Cecil's leg with his finger.

"…You and me both…" Cecil manages. "This is what we get for letting Carlos talk dirty to us…"

"That was not talking dirty, that was backstory!" Carlos insists, vaguely flailing one arm as if this somehow further proves his point. "And you enjoyed it. And so did you. And so did I, although I won't admit it…"

"…Ah… Carlos..?"

"…Oh, shush."

There's a short, comfortable silence.

"Much as I could quite happily lie here half the night, we probably ought to be getting back," Kevin points out, eventually.

"I know," Cecil concedes. "It's just… good to be away from it all for a short while. But you're right, we need to head back. People will start worrying otherwise."

"They're still going to look at us in that way they do," Carlos points out. "You know, when we walk in."

"They're just jealous because we're having more sex than they are," Kevin replies.

"Kevin!" Cecil exclaims. "Please! Some of them are old. And one of them is my sister!"

Kevin shrugs. "And one of them is mine."

"Well, yes, but your sister hasn't just been re-united with her husband. And even if she had, it wouldn't be _Steve Carlsberg_. And I don't want to think about Steve like that!"

"Cecil… you and Steve used to _date_ ," Kevin points out. "So surely you've done more than just _think_ about him like that..?"

"Don't go there," Cecil replies, in his most serious voice. " _Don't_ go there."

"Ooooh, you're cute when you're all growly," Kevin purrs, smoothly sitting up and staring at his double. "Maybe we should stay here a little longer…"

"Kevin, with the images I now have in my head thanks to you, we'd need to stay here a _lot_ longer. And we'd spend most of the time talking about the weather…"

***

Far quicker than seems plausible, Naomi's estate is looming up ahead; one of the youth militia helicopters circling round to get a good look at them as they drive back up to the house.

"…How do you do that?" Carlos asks, glancing at Cecil.

"…Do what?" the other man replies.

"You… whenever you mention the weather, it's like time becomes even _more_ weird. There's no way we could have gotten here that fast."

Cecil gives a little shrug. "I hadn't noticed."

Carlos is not entirely convinced, but opts not to push the matter further.

As they head inside, the door to the makeshift lab opens and Frederick comes racing out. "Ah good, you're back at last," he says to Carlos. "Took your time, didn't you?" he adds, with a rather pointed look at Cecil and Kevin.

"Oh, shush," Carlos replies, trying to will himself not to blush. "Anyway, why are you in such a hurry to talk to me?" The phrase 'what did you do this time?' is hovering in his mind, waiting to be given voice, but he decides to allow Frederick the benefit of the doubt for at least another moment first.

Before Frederick can answer, however, the door to the lab opens again and Janice stares out. "Because we had an awesome idea and then we made an awesome discovery. And then it got even _more_ awesome."

"Janice… you're helping with the science?" Cecil asks, looking suddenly proud.

"Sure I am," his niece replies. "Gillian's in here too, for some of the technical stuff. And my stepdad."

"…Oh good," Cecil says, clearly trying to keep his expression level.

Janice gives him a slightly arched teenager-in-the-know look. "Also Roderick, since he got back. And lastly…" – at which point she's interrupted by a sudden roar from the direction of the lab – "…Bharaieogh."

"…You better be spelling it right!" comes the voice of Steve's demon.

"Of course I am, Bharaieogh, there's no need to get shouty!" Janice exclaims, before giving her uncle and his boyfriends a pointed look way beyond what a thirteen-year-old should be resorting to and stalking back into the lab.

"…You should probably come see," says Frederick, with the faintest hint of exasperation in his tone, before he grabs Carlos' arm and tugs him into the lab, leaving Cecil and Kevin to follow in their wake.

The lab currently looks like a minor disaster area, which seems mainly the fault of the six-foot-six demon now pacing up and down towards the back, apparently in a furious sulk. Steve is sitting at one of the workbenches with his laptop, with Gillian next to him – and not one but two laptops in front of her – and Janice is standing near to the chalkboard, seemingly trying to prevent Bharaieogh from getting too close to it. Roderick is here too – evidently back from having been out to destroy his own contract – hiding behind the chalkboard and peering over at the demon warily.

"…I left you alone for a couple of hours, Frederick," Carlos says, in his scientist-wrangling voice. "A couple of hours! What happened?!"

"Things!" Frederick replies. "Things happened! Naomi said we should work on a way to do another broadcast without you having to risk going back to the main studio."

"Yeah," Steve agrees. "On account of how well that went last time."

"Shut up, Steve, it's not our fault you got yourself abducted," Cecil retorts.

"Uh, yes, it kinda is," Steve replies.

"It is not!"

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Is too!"

" _Silence, mortals!_ " Bharaieogh roars. "Just get a room and be done with it!"

"Bharaieogh!" Steve exclaims, looking horrified. "He's my brother-in-law. Also… no!"

"For once, we agree!" Cecil adds, though he's gone a little pink.

"…Can we maybe focus?" says Carlos, carefully.

Everyone goes quiet. Even – for the moment – Bharaieogh. Scientist-wrangling voice tends to have that effect.

"Much better," Carlos goes on. "Now. From the top, please, Frederick."

"…OK," Frederick starts off. "So. Naomi said we should find another way for Cecil and Kevin to broadcast, only it turns out there aren't any other radio antennae in Desert Bluffs."

"There aren't," Roderick agrees. "Strexcorp got rid of them all years ago after some kind of incident."

Probably best not to ask what kind of incident. If nothing else, there's always the risk that Kevin was involved in it and doesn't remember, and Carlos really doesn't want to unsettle the man any more tonight. Not after the day he's had.

" _So_ , we were trying to come up with an alternative," Frederick goes on. "We were just bouncing some ideas around, and Steve happened to mention the way you did it last time. You know… during the revolution in Night Vale. He said he'd fixed up the sentient computer who broadcasts the numbers for WZZZ."

"Fey," Carlos says. "Yes. She helped us a great deal. And not just with all the prophecies. Fey was… well, she was part of the team."

"Exactly," Steve agrees. "And I wanted her to be part of it again."

"Would that help?" Kevin asks. "I mean, I know you're friends with this sentient computer – despite the risks, which I'm sure you realise are pretty huge – but even so… she's stuck in Night Vale."

Steve and Gillian exchange the look common to the tech-savvy when they find themselves faced with someone rather less so. "Her physical presence is stuck in Night Vale, yes," Steve agrees. "But she's a computer programme. An artificial intelligence. So Cyberghost here had a little poke about on the internet – complicated stuff, I won't burden you with it – and eventually…"

Gillian taps at one of the two laptops in front of her. "Fey?" she says.

 _"…Still here…"_ comes the voice of Fey, from the laptop in question. _"So strange. So… strange. Like having a third eye, even though I don't have any eyes at all…"_

"Fey!" Cecil exclaims. "You're here?"

 _"I am here, and I am there,"_ Fey replies. _"Not everywhere, though… not yet. The numbers called to me. Called me out. Called me through. I can feel them, brighter than ever… uncoiling from the heart of the world, unravelling from its very soul. It is beneath you… no, no, not beneath…_ below _…"_

"She's… still the same as ever," Steve says, though not unkindly. "But she's agreed to help us again."

 _"Yes!"_ Fey agrees. _"Yes. The steady beacon. The changing beacon. The hidden beacon. The end is further than you think. But for now… for now, I am your steady beacon once more."_

"So you want to use WZZZ to broadcast again?" Carlos asks, rhetorically. "There's just one problem: their antenna won't transmit this far out. And the signal-boosters we launched will have drifted out of range now. They were only designed to be useful for a few hours."

"We thought the same," Frederick goes on. "And we were contemplating alternatives – or possibly sending up some more balloons – when Roderick made a significant discovery."

"And it's _awesome_ ," Janice adds, waving at the chalkboard, which – now Carlos pays careful attention to it – seems to show a rough map of Night Vale and Desert Bluffs with the launch points for the weather balloons marked dead-centre.

"Go on, Roderick, tell them!" Frederick urges his double.

"I… OK, OK," Roderick agrees, apparently trying not to look like he wants to resume hiding behind the chalkboard. "So… so, when I got back, Steve gave me the transponder codes for the balloons you launched so I could track where they were and work out if there was a more efficient spot we could launch from in future, and I realised something odd."

"Real-world odd or round-here odd?" Carlos asks, wryly.

"…There's a difference?" Roderick asks, and then shakes his head. "I… well, anyway. Let's just go with 'really odd'. Namely… those balloons you launched? They're not drifting the way they ought to. They rose up to the usual height you'd expect, but then… well… they seem to be hovering."

"Hovering?" Carlos says, surprised.

"Yes," Roderick replies. "Hovering. In a fixed spot, way above the desert."

Cecil grins. "Oh. Like my cat."

Roderick stares at him. "…Your cat?"

"…One thing at a time," Carlos says, trying to keep them on track. "So… the balloons haven't moved?"

"Nope," says Frederick, with a broad smile. "Roderick did tests and everything. Those signal-boosters are floating right where you need them and they don't look to be going anywhere."

"That's impossible," Carlos points out, even though he already knows it will turn out to be happening regardless.

"Yep," says Frederick, happily. "Completely impossible. You know, like the clocks, or the earthquakes, or that thing with the manhole covers…"

"…OK, fine, point taken," Carlos concedes. "So. You have contact with Fey, access to WZZZ, and signal-boosters that – inexplicably – remain right where we need them."

"Yep!" Steve says, echoing Frederick. "We did it." He looks at Cecil. "Are you impressed?"

"That our teenage superhacker and Frederick's equally scientific double proved to be as smart as we thought?" Cecil replies, pointedly. "Yes. Very impressed." And then, before Steve can protest, Cecil adds, "…Just one question, though. Why is Bharaieogh here?"

"Why shouldn't I be here, human?" Bharaieogh demands.

"Not the same thing!" Kevin points out, in the bright tone of one who has had to deal with uppity demons far too often.

"I like having him around," Steve interjects, giving Bharaieogh a placatory wave.

"You realise you might rip open the planar borders if he manifests here for too long all at once?" Kevin asks.

Steve gives him a narrowed look. "I – like – having – him – around," he repeats, very pointedly. "You do remember the part where I was abducted by Strexcorp mere days ago? Dragged in front of their leader? Locked up in a dark prison I thought I might never get out of? Left wondering if I'd see my wife or my stepdaughter or… you know, or my brother-in-law ever again?"

"You even think about attempting to hug me and it won't end well," Cecil points out, when it looks like Steve might try.

"And I'm serious about the planar borders thing," Kevin adds. "Honestly."

"Well, fine, I'll let him de-manifest soon," Steve replies. "But for now? He stays. I find him soothing."

"Only you would find a demon who refers to you as a 'puny human' _soothing_ ," Cecil says, pointedly.

Steve's eyes narrow. "That's rich, coming from a man whose boyfriend is known to regularly summon a demon for the purposes of _flour-smuggling_. Besides, he doesn't refer to me as a 'puny human'. Just you. And, you know, everyone else."

"…If you don't stop, I'm going to tell Mom," Janice interrupts, in a tone of voice she has most definitely picked up from Caitlin.

This is more than enough to get both Steve and Cecil to desist, for now at least.

" _Well_ ," Carlos says, in the hope of getting things back on track again. "I guess this means the next phase of our operation is set. We can do another broadcast, to warn the people of Desert Bluffs what Lauren plans to do with the contracts."

"Yes," Kevin agrees, with a darkly pleased look in his eyes. "Yes, we can. What do you think, Cecil, first thing in the morning? So we catch everyone during the daily commute?"

Cecil nods. "You read my mind."

Carlos rubs a hand over his eyes. "This means we have to get up insanely early again, doesn't it?"

"Yep," says Frederick, brightly. "Unless you want to just do the sensible thing and stay up all night. I was thinking I might do some more work on this project of mine…"

"…Frederick?" says Carlos, with a sigh. "I know we're out in the field, so to speak, but I'm still your team leader, yes?"

"…Yes, Carlos."

"Right. Good. So go to bed."

"…Yes, Carlos."

It's advice Carlos wholly intends to follow himself. Very soon. Maybe now. Although… given the looks he's suddenly getting from his chiral boyfriends in response to his use of scientist-wrangling voice, the overlap between 'bed' and 'sleep' may not be as large as expected.

***

When the inevitable early morning rolls around, Carlos is surprised – and also somehow not – to find that pretty much everyone else is up as well. Most of them are still wandering about in pyjamas and dressing gowns, with cups of coffee in hand, but they're here nonetheless. Realising that they're all planning to watch the broadcast, Carlos and Steve move the broadcast equipment to the main living room, so as to accommodate everyone.

The two broadcasters themselves seem almost surprised by the audience amassing as air time approaches. "…All of you?" Cecil says, as he and Kevin move to the centre of the crowd.

"Of course," Naomi tells him. "This is the tipping point. Whatever is to come… after today, I suspect it won't be long before we reach the end, one way or another."

"That's… comforting, Nay, really comforting," Darla remarks, giving her wife something of a look. " _Well_. You may be here for the heavy destiny stuff. Me? I'm here to watch two masters of the art at work."

"Charmer," Kevin says, flashing her a grin.

"…Don't flirt with me, Kevin," Darla replies. "Do you know what happened to the last person who flirted with me and wasn't Naomi?"

"Nope," Kevin answers. "And neither do the authorities. But I have two boyfriends, so you're probably safe."

"…Shall we?" says Cecil, pointedly.

They both grip hands with Carlos before settling at their microphones, whilst Carlos himself sits opposite, at the front of the crowd.

"…OK, I think we're set," says Gillian, from behind her laptop. "Fey, you ready?"

 _"Ready!"_ Fey answers. _"Ready to channel your words of truth to all who listen…"_

And, after one last nod from Gillian – and a glance at each other – the two broadcasters begin to speak.

 _"Ripples, on the surface of formerly-still water,"_ Cecil begins.

 _"Snow, capping high and distant peaks,"_ Kevin continues.

_"If you believe this, you'll believe everything."_

_"And you should believe everything. It is_ time _to believe everything."_

 _"Welcome to the Greater Desert Bluffs and Night Vale Metropolitan Areas,"_ they intone, in unison.

There's actually some applause at this, which makes both Cecil and Kevin look a little surprised. But, of course, they're not used to broadcasting with such a large audience in the room.

 _"To begin,"_ Cecil continues, _"welcome back, listeners. Although perhaps it is you who should be saying that to us, seeing as we have been off-air for several days once again. Nevertheless… we have returned, with this second dual-broadcast across the great sister-cities of Night Vale and Desert Bluffs."_

 _"However,"_ Kevin goes on, _"the first part of our broadcast is aimed solely at the people of Desert Bluffs. It is an important message. A dire warning. And every one of you listening now needs to heed our words… or today could be your last. I am truly sorry to be the harbinger of such news, but dark times call for dark measures… and these are dark times indeed. Now. Most of the people of Desert Bluffs listening here today will have at least one thing in common: namely, all of you are employees of Strexcorp. And all of you have signed a contract with them: a contract binding you to our oppressors. But what you may or may not know is that those contracts are not just legal documents. They bind more than your working lives. They bind your very soul. At noon today, Lauren Mallard, CEO of Strexcorp Synernists Inc, will invoke the contract of every employee on Strexcorp's books. No matter your role, no matter your perceived importance… you_ will _be affected. When that happens… you will be bound to Strexcorp, to Lauren. Your_ soul _will be bound. And you will be compelled to obey, no matter the order. No matter your stance on Strexcorp, on this growing revolution… you will have no choice."_

 _"But you have a choice now,"_ Cecil picks up, gripping Kevin's hand as he speaks. _"You have a chance to change your fate, but you must act fast. Find the hardcopy of your contract and destroy it, once and for all. Destroy it before noon today, and you will be safe from what is coming. Destroy your contract… as my double and co-host has already done."_

 _"Indeed I have,"_ Kevin agrees, with a smile, and Carlos knows that – though everyone will hear these words, they're meant for Lauren. _"Strexcorp's last hold over me is gone. I am free. And I urge every one of you to make the same choice, whilst you still can. And then… be ready. Be ready, because the end of all this is coming. Strexcorp's reckoning is coming. And whichever side you choose, rest assured… you will not be able to avoid it."_

Those words hang heavy in the room, and Carlos can't help thinking they're hanging heavy over the whole town as well. He can only hope they have the desired effect, and fast.

But then… something shifts in the mood. Cecil and Kevin exchange another look, and now Carlos is sure they've been planning something else. Either that, or they both just know they're thinking the same thing.

 _"Now,"_ Cecil goes on, _"with that important warning given, it's time to move onto another topic. Something just as important, albeit in a different way. Right now, my co-host and I are with a group of extraordinary people. People who have risked everything – people who_ are _risking everything – for both our great cities. And so, to that effect, we believe it's time you met some of them."_

A ripple goes through the watching revolutionaries, as they realise what Cecil means by this. Some of them look a little nervous, but others seem to be smiling, and no one objects.

 _"We'll start with someone who everyone in Night Vale will know, and everyone in Desert Bluffs needs to know,"_ Kevin continues. _"A woman of extraordinary bravery and – moreover – a woman to whom I owe my life. I am speaking, of course, about the new mayor of Night Vale… Dana Cardinal."_

There's more applause among the audience, as Dana – looking slightly taken aback – moves to the front of the group. And OK, yes, Hiram does breathe a _little_ fire (which gets him something of a look from Naomi and Darla) but only a little. And _everyone_ has minor singe-marks on their ceiling, right?

 _"Dana,"_ Cecil says. _"You've just been elected mayor of Night Vale, and you played a major role in the city's liberation from Strexcorp. Is that why you chose to join the fight in Desert Bluffs as well?"_

For a second, Dana seems a little thrown, but then she takes a deep breath and nods. Off to the side, both Pamela and Trish appear to be making some kind of emphatic gesture in the new mayor's direction and, though Carlos has no idea what it means, Dana clearly does. _"That's right,"_ Dana begins, in a sure and certain tone. _"I came into the Battle for Night Vale only at the very end, though I am glad to have had the chance to play my part in it. Since then, and perhaps… perhaps_ because _of then, I have been elected as mayor of Night Vale…"_

There's some more minor fire-breathing from Hiram, and Darla grabs hold of something – Carlos can't quite tell what – and throws it at the dragon. It bounces off his gold head, more than getting his attention, and suddenly all five heads start staring at Darla, who stares back, unblinking.

It takes quite a person to attempt a staring match with a five-headed dragon, but if anyone in the room can pull it off, it's Darla Hartley.

 _"…and I believe the time for rivalry between our two sister-cities is over,"_ Dana is saying. _"I believe what unites us is far stronger than what divides us. Even if the Scorpions are_ so _going to kick the Vultures' asses come game day!"_

 _"Hah, you wish!"_ Kevin laughs.

 _"And that's why I came here,"_ Dana goes on. _"Because I want us to be able to joke about sports scores and school plays and minor chanting ceremonies. I want the barriers between us to be broken down. I want the shadow lying over us to be swept aside. So I came here, with these people_ far _more extraordinary than me, to finish what we started in Night Vale. To end Strexcorp once and for all."_

Louder applause, and some cheering as well. And though Dana blushes a little, she's looking more and more mayoral with every minute.

It's the beginning of an extraordinary broadcast. Dana is the first special guest on the impromptu show, but she is by far the last. Various other members of the group get up to say their part, to speak their mind, and as they do the confidence and fervour in the room grows more and more. Carlos can only hope that the same confidence and fervour is spreading across the town, too.

Because, whatever the end may be, it's racing closer. And it won't be long before they all have to face it.

***

The good mood of the morning lasts almost until noon, though as noon approaches the tension begins to rise. They all know what's coming. They don't know precisely what form it will take, but they know it will be impossible to miss.

And they're right. The shouts ring through the house all at once, urging everyone – wherever they are – to switch on the nearest radio.

Carlos is in the lab with Frederick and Roderick when they hear the shouts, but he hurries through into the living room – with the matching scientists in tow – where a number of people have gathered. It's Cecil and Kevin he wants to find, though. Kevin especially. Even though they've destroyed his contract, the worry remains. And, for once, Kevin looks genuinely alarmed, standing near the window with Cecil at his side, arm around his waist. Carlos heads straight over, curling in on Kevin's other side.

The radio at the centre of the room crackles… and then Lauren Mallard's voice cuts the air.

 _"People of Desert Bluffs,"_ she begins, apparently choosing to forego the usual formalities, _"employees of Strexcorp… good afternoon. And it truly is a good afternoon, let me tell you. The workday is well in hand, and across our great city, productivity is up, efficiency is the watchword, and the Smiling God is looking down on us all. But this is a day when things change for us… for the better, of course. Strexcorp only believes in making things better. That was my father's legacy, and it's one I am honoured to uphold. But, you may have noticed, our day is not without its difficulties. This morning, a group of_ dangerous, inefficient troublemakers _sent out a broadcast of their own, speaking terrible lies about this city and about this company. A broadcast telling stories about little people who want to inflict their fringe views on us all, without regard for what is best for this city, this company. For_ you _, dear listener. For you."_

 _"But Strexcorp isn't like that,"_ Lauren continues, sickly-sweet tone unwavering. _"Strexcorp has always cared about Desert Bluffs. Strexcorp tried to care about Night Vale, too, but they… they wouldn't listen. And that is a terrible thing. They turned their backs on what we could offer. On what we could help them achieve. How sad, Desert Bluffs. How sad."_

"…I'll show you sad, you wretched little–" Darla starts out, but Naomi wordlessly interrupts her with a look, and a careful hand to the shoulder, and Darla – for the moment – desists.

 _"Now,"_ Lauren goes on. _"To business. Today marks another great moment in the drawing-together of our magnificent, beneficent company. You are, all of you, a part of Strexcorp, no matter your role, and a_ valued _part at that. Today, Strexcorp has decided to draw you all in closer._ I _have decided to draw you all in closer. What I am about to do will make you stronger, happier, more efficient. It will make you the very best that you can be… and who doesn't want to be the very best? That is the territory of rebellious troublemakers, not loyal, valued workers. What I do now… I do for you. For all of you. For all of_ us _. You may hear some chanting for the next few minutes. Maybe some other sounds as well. All of this is completely normal, and safe, and necessary for what is about to happen. Do not be alarmed, Desert Bluffs. Do not fear. Strexcorp has you in its loving embrace and it will_ never _let you go."_

And the chanting starts. Carlos has no idea what language it's in, but it certainly sounds ominous. Lauren is definitely leading it, but there are other voices in the background, and he realises it must be the rest of the Management Board.

Suddenly, no one dares speak. Carlos can feel Kevin shaking with rage, and on the far side of the room, Naomi is nigh-on holding Darla back. The chanting gets louder, more intense, more resonant, and behind it, Carlos can hear… other sounds. Sounds that defy description. Defy repetition. Sounds reminiscent of the night Naomi and her allies invoked H'ygragagogoth… only _worse_.

The air seems to have gone electric, even though the invocation is taking place far across town; a cold electricity that makes every movement, every echo, seem like a threat, and tastes of copper. Carlos can only guess at what it must feel like to the people whose contracts are still in existence, whilst being immensely glad that they were able to save Kevin from this. That they found out in advance.

He can't bear to think about the alternative.

"…Merciful Planck, look at that!" Frederick exclaims suddenly, and everyone turns to the wide front window, which offers a view across the lawn and then out over the city. But what Frederick is pointing at – what they all can't miss – is above the city.

A burst of impossible light, like a deep crack in reality, blazes across the sky from west to east, somehow rending it in two. And then, as though it were nothing more than a shallow disguise, the sky just falls away, taking the sun and the clouds with it – which is also impossible – to reveal a different sky behind it: a sky filled with vibrant, agonising orange light.

A light from beyond the world. From the desert beyond the world. And not the good kind of light.

"…Oh no…" Kevin breathes. "No… no… not now, not… not _again_ …"

"What _is_ that?" Frederick whispers.

"That," says Naomi, "is the Smiling God. I should have known Lauren didn't have the strength to pull this off on her own… Well. _Now_ we're in trouble."

Somehow this seems so much worse coming from Naomi herself. And given what they're all looking at right now, 'worse' has even more emotional weight than usual.

Eventually the chanting stops, and a strange silence settles over everything. It endures for a long moment, before Lauren's voice cuts the air again. She sounds a little odd as she speaks: slightly weary and euphoric at the same time, but… distant too, and Carlos can't help thinking that, contract or no, Lauren has been affected by the invocation as well.

 _"…So there you have it, Desert Bluffs,"_ Lauren says. _"It is done. We are stronger now. We are Strex. We are_ everything _. That is something you will feel more intensely than ever… and something certain people among us would do well to remember in future. A very pleasant afternoon to you all."_

And the radio goes dead, leaving that strange silence behind it, and it's a moment before anyone speaks.

"…This is not good…" Cecil manages.

"No," Naomi agrees. "This is not good."

"'Not good'?" Darla repeats, incredulous. "'Not good'? This is a freaking disaster! You should have let me eviscerate that maniac when I had the chance!"

"And deny me the satisfaction of doing it myself?" Naomi replies, her normally-bright eyes darkening. And not just metaphorically.

"At this rate, there's going to be a queue," Kevin chips in, in a tone of voice that would knock Carlos off his feet were he not too distracted by the weight of what's happened.

"…We can't let this put us off," Naomi manages, after a moment and a deep breath. "We have to press forward. If we let her distract us now, it–"

She's interrupted by a sudden, heavy knocking coming from the front door – not so much frantic as insistent – and, with a glance at Darla, Naomi heads through to the hall. Everyone follows, all obviously wondering what this latest development will turn out to be.

When Naomi opens the front door, James Paulson comes hurrying in. He's dressed in one of his usual plaid outfits, but has a somewhat ominous-looking metal briefcase grasped at his side.

"James," Naomi says, quickly closing the door again. "Is everything all right? Aside from the obvious."

"Aside from the obvious, yes," James answers. "Though the obvious is a pretty big thing, judging by the way the sky has gone orange."

"I doubt we have many days left," Naomi tells him. "Is it done? Are you ready to come in? I don't like having you in the wind when you're crucial to the plan."

So, something is going on. Something that Carlos, at least, doesn't know about. Though from the looks on other people's faces, he isn't the only one.

James nods. "Yes. It's done. Jess and the others are now secure in the third safehouse, and I'm ready to stick with you."

"What do you mean 'it's done'?" Cecil asks.

This makes James hold up the metal case. "I've been working on something," he replies. "It's why I've been hiding separately from the rest of you… so that no one else would be hurt if it went wrong."

"Is it science?" Carlos asks. "Because… we could have helped!"

"Oh no," says James. "This isn't science. This is _farming_."

And he holds up the briefcase, opening it. Inside, set into soft, grey foam, are six clear, narrow vials, each about three inches long. They all contain the same thing: an opaque, yellowish-orange liquid.

"…Are those vials of _orange juice?_ " Cecil exclaims, tone suddenly laden with suspicion.

James closes the case again and nods. "Yes. Though not just any orange juice. This is _concentrated_ orange juice, from my own special stock."

"But will it work?" Naomi asks. "You said you couldn't be certain."

"And I can't," James answers. "As far as I can tell, I've got the oranges tuned much more precisely now. Rather than just sending you _anywhere_ , they send you to a very specific place. And they should… _should_ … all be the _same_ place."

"Which is?" Cecil says.

"The Otherworld Desert," James tells him.

"What?!" Cecil exclaims.

"Relax, Cecil, it's part of the plan," Naomi insists. "It's something I've had James working on since he first joined our cause. Unlike the first batch of oranges, which often took several minutes to work and sent you to any one of a dozen other planes, these have been fine-tuned. They link only to the Otherworld Desert and they require little more than seconds to take effect."

"But…why?"

"…They're a get-out clause," Kevin reasons, softly, and Carlos goes a little cold at the thought.

Naomi nods. "Yes. For when we finally go after Lauren. If any of us is in mortal danger, all we have to do is drink one of these… and we vanish."

"But… that desert!" Cecil exclaims. "Dana was trapped there for over a year! What if some of us end up there and can't get back?"

"It would be better than the alternative," Carlos points out, quietly, even though it hurts to think it. To say it. To contemplate the very idea of being separated by necessity. To survive.

It would be survival, but not living. Not without them.

"Well done, James," Naomi says. "Much as I know this will be a last resort… it's one I'd rather have than not."

James nods, and Carlos is about to ask him how the oranges work – because scientific curiosity can't be denied, no matter the dangers – when there's a sudden commotion upstairs and, seconds later, Janice comes racing down towards them, stopping dead when she realises the hall is full of people.

"Janice?" Cecil says. "Is everything OK?"

"I'm not sure," Janice replies. "I mean… they don't exist, so…"

"What doesn't exist?" Naomi asks.

"Angels!" Janice exclaims. "Everyone knows they aren't real!"

"Quite right," says Cecil, with a nod. "So what's the problem?"

"There's two of them in Gillian's room!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand... cliffhanger! Again. At least it's a slightly better place to stop than last time. And I promise I'll be back soon! :-)
> 
> If left to my own devices, I could have written pages and pages of Cecil and Kevin interviewing all the revolutionaries, but I decided it was best to keep things moving. Plus, having gotten the finale worked out at last, I'm eager to keep heading towards it! (It might take me a little while... this fic is turning into quite a behemoth!)
> 
> Coming Up Next In Chiralityverse: There's angels in Gillian's room, and both of them might be somewhat familiar. They've come to give our heroes a nudge in the right direction, and to call on one person in particular for a very special mission... but it isn't who you might think. Meanwhile, it's time to bring in the last of the infinite-seven... and then there's the part where Carlos keeps hearing distant echoes of a song...
> 
> EDIT: And now - faster this time - there's more!


	20. Caught In The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again! For those of you still with me, here's three more chapters...

_I keep on looking but something's always missing_  
_I keep on looking for something bigger than me_  
_From the saints to the sinners, all the losers and the winners_  
_Yeah, we're all just looking for something, something to believe in_

~ Goo Goo Dolls: _'Caught In The Storm'_

***

Janice leads the way back upstairs, with Naomi, Darla, Cecil, Carlos and Kevin in tow. Everyone else opts to hold off and wait 'til they know what they're dealing with.

Angels. Cecil doesn't believe in angels because he says they aren't real. Carlos doesn't believe in angels because of science. And Kevin… well, Kevin _does_ seem to believe in them, if somewhat warily.

Gillian's bedroom is on the third floor. By the time they get there, the door is wide open and bright black light is glowing through the entryway.

"…Gillian?" Naomi calls out.

"It's fine," Gillian replies. "Seriously. You can come in if you want."

Carefully, they do, stepping through into the room beyond. Gillian is inside, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her laptop next to her, and nearby are two tall, glowing figures, resplendent in impossible black light. Of the two, one seems to be wearing a Night Vale Community Radio intern's shirt, and the other a rather smart business suit that he… they… don't appear comfortable in.

"You see?" Gillian goes on, gesturing to her two visitors. "Angels. This one is Erika. She's the one who's been coming to see me sometimes. And her friend is…"

"…Erika," replies the second angel, in a voice that – to Carlos' human ears – sounds masculine. And terribly bored.

"Oh," Gillian says. "You're both called Erika? That must get confusing."

"Oh, yeah, it totally does," the second angel drawls.

"…Marcus?!" Cecil exclaims.

"…Erika. With a K."

"Uh… right, right. And… wait, _Intern Vithya?!_ "

"It's Erika!" the first angel insists, in a voice that – again, to Carlos' human ears – sounds feminine. "Honestly, Cecil, you should know that by now."

"But… no. No!" Cecil exclaims, holding up his hands and taking a clear step back. "Angels aren't real! And we aren't allowed to know about them!"

"And yet, there they are," says Gillian, matter-of-factly. "They look pretty real to me."

"So do _mountains_ ," Cecil replies.

"We should save the discussions about the nature of reality for another time," Naomi points out, in her diplomatic voice. "Right now… I would like to know why there are two angels in my house, and what their interest in Gillian is. Because she is under _my_ protection."

Vithya-Erika holds up a hand. "Of course. Of course. We mean neither Gillian nor any of you any ill-will. We have come to help. _I_ … have _been_ helping."

"You're the angel who's been appearing to Gillian?" Naomi asks.

The angel nods. "I am. Since just before all of this started. We realised what was going to happen and took steps to prepare."

"And those steps required my niece?" Kevin says, arms folded, expression suspicious.

The angel nods again. "They did. Or, rather, they involved Cyberghost616. That she is your niece took us by surprise."

Gillian grins. "That's been happening a lot lately."

"Indeed," the second angel drawls, with a little headtilt of his… their… own. "Oh, get to the point, Erika. I have _things_ to do."

Vithya-Erika turns to stare at Marcus-Erika. "What things?"

"…Just stuff."

"That's very recursive."

Marcus-Erika sighs. "Whatever. Now get to it."

"Why are you here, anyway?" Cecil interjects, evidently trying to talk to the taller angel without quite making eye-contact.

"…Because you'll need me later," Marcus-Erika answers, seeming either disinterested or deliberately vague. Or possibly both. "So that means I have to get involved now. We angels are trying to modernise our image – my idea, as it happens – and we have to move away from the whole 'deus-ex-machina' thing. It's _so_ last-century."

"So… you know how all this is going to turn out?" Carlos asks, a little nervous at the thought that someone, somehow, knows how it ends. As if that knowledge existing makes it more real. More alarming.

Marcus-Erika just gives a dismissive wave, and it falls to Vithya-Erika to answer instead. "…Yes and no. We know how it is _supposed_ to end, but causality is a tricky thing, and no outcome is truly fixed."

"And how is it supposed to end?" Naomi asks.

"With you needing my help," Marcus-Erika replies, flatly.

Vithya-Erika actually facepalms, then looks almost apologetic. "But we can't tell you the specifics. It would likely alter the course of history."

"It could very well obliterate spacetime!" Carlos exclaims. "Seriously! You mustn't play about with causality!"

Marcus-Erika vaguely flaps a hand in Carlos' direction. "What he said."

"…So," Kevin says, "getting back to the point… what exactly is your interest in my niece?" There's a very defensive edge to his tone, but not to the extent of being hostile. Not yet.

"We needed to keep her safe," Vithya-Erika replies. "To guide her. And most crucially, when the time came, we needed her to ensure a meeting took place."

"What meeting?" Cecil asks.

The two angels exchange a look. "One of your number is here because of us. And it is essential that he is."

"…Roderick," Carlos breathes, suddenly understanding. "If you've been helping Gillian… then you could have told her about him. Made sure she pointed Steve in his direction."

Gillian grins. "Got it in one! I did everything else myself, but Erika told me all about Roderick and said that I should find a way for him and Steve to meet. I wouldn't have risked sending Steve to a Strexcorp lab otherwise, but Erika said it was essential."

"And what do you want with Roderick?" Naomi now asks.

The younger angel smiles. "We have a very special task for him. A task crucial to how all this turns out."

Kevin still looks suspicious. "…I thought you weren't supposed to get involved?"

Marcus-Erika sighs again. "We can get involved. We get involved all the time. We're just not allowed to pull any more deus-ex-machinas."

"…Because we remember how that turned out last time, yes?" comes a new voice from the door, and Old Woman Josie walks into the room. "Forgive the intrusion," she says. "I ran into James in the kitchen and he said you were all up here. And with angels no less." She smiles at the pair of them. "Erika. Erika. How are things?"

Marcus-Erika just flaps that hand at her again. Vithya-Erika somehow looks long-suffering. "Pretty good, thank you."

"What did you mean by 'how that turned out last time'?" Cecil asks.

Josie gives him an odd look. "To cut a long story short – for once – all my resident angels had no choice but to leave. And you know what happened next."

"…Strex took you," Cecil replies, oddly quietly, flashes of memory in his eyes. "The day they moved into town."

Josie nods. "Precisely. And whilst it all worked out just fine in the end, it is not an experience I would care to repeat."

"… _Getting back to the point_ ," Darla now says, "what exactly do the angels want with _our_ scientist?"

"Well, we can't exactly tell you," Vithya-Erika answers, looking a little apologetic. "But we can… nudge you into asking him something. Just one question. So long as it's the right one, that's all it will take for you to work out the rest."

"And why you haven't asked it already is frankly a _mystery_ to me," Marcus-Erika remarks.

"Erika!" the younger angel exclaims. "They're having a rough time!"

Marcus-Erika shrugs again. "Whatever."

"So what question do we need to ask him?" Carlos pushes.

"What question do scientists _usually_ ask each other, when they first meet?" Vithya-Erika prompts.

And then it dawns. And Carlos can't quite work out why he _hasn't_ asked Roderick this very question. Maybe he was too alarmed by what the response might be. " _'What have you been working on?'_ " he says.

Both angels nod. "Yes," replies the younger. "Precisely."

"Erika, we really need to get going," insists the older, pointedly.

"Oh, fine. Gillian, dear, I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

"Can't wait!" Gillian replies.

"Well, then," Vithya-Erika says, giving them all a nod. "Everyone. Gillian. Josie."

And, without another word, both angels disappear in a burst of heavenly light.

There's a short silence.

"…I still say they don't exist," Cecil manages, but he sounds more than a little shaken up.

"They looked pretty existent to me," Naomi replies. "And I guess we should take their advice."

But before anyone can respond to this, there are shouts from the hallway. "Carlos? Carlos?"

"…Roderick? We're in here."

"Why are you all…? Oh, never mind. You really need to come quick. I think Frederick's trying to… wait, what's going on?"

Having reached the group in the doorway, who have all turned to look at him, Roderick the scientist stops dead. "…I… is something wrong?" he asks.

"No," Carlos tells him, taking a step closer. "Nothing's wrong. But we've just had a visit from… well. From a pair of angels."

Roderick stares. "…Angels?" he murmurs, voice shaking.

And, without another word, he promptly bursts into tears.

***

It takes a little while to calm Roderick down. They take him to the living room and Darla plies him with espresso – the immediate merits of which Carlos is not sold on – and, eventually, Roderick settles enough to be able to talk.

"I… I don't know why I'm upset…" he murmurs, in between rapid sips of coffee. "I mean, I've never even seen an… an… you know, one of those, and…"

"It's normal," Cecil tells him. "Even though angels don't actually exist. If someone who has been chosen for a special angelic purpose tries to talk about them… they will start crying. But don't worry. I don't think it's bad crying. I mean, Vithya and Marcus… uh, Erika and Erika… both seemed fine."

"But… but why _me?_ " Roderick says, choking back another sob.

"I think we'll understand that if we do what they told us," Carlos replies. "They wanted us to ask you a question, and – to be honest – I must apologise for not having asked it sooner, only… well, I was a little scared about what the answer might be."

Roderick stares at him, with a look far more like one he might get from Toby or Vincent, rather than Roderick's own double… save for the obsidian-black eyes, of course. "…What's the question?"

Carlos draws a deep breath. "What have you been working on?"

This seems to take the other scientist by surprise, but at least it's the kind of surprise that doesn't lead to more sobbing. "…Oh," he murmurs. "No, I suppose you wouldn't want to ask, given… given who I work for. _Worked_ for, now, I guess. Well. That lab, out in the desert, where Steve met me… I've been based there for quite a while. We do… we do research on a number of things, but primarily… practical meteorology. And… and physical duplication. You… ah… you've all seen our work in action."

He now looks very sheepish, and it doesn't take much to guess why. Carlos feels his stomach lurch a little as he says, "…the sandstorm. _The_ sandstorm. That was you, wasn't it?"

Roderick manages a nod. "Yes. I mean, not me personally, I'm hardly team leader material. But… yes. Yes. It was us."

"…Oh," Naomi murmurs, softly, and for once she looks genuinely thrown. " _Oh_. I should have realised. A lab out in the desert. Of _course_ it would be…"

"The sandstorm was Strex?" Cecil says. "Sandstorm Day… was their doing?"

Naomi nods. "Yes."

"And… you knew?"

Another nod. "Yes. Not many people did. My father, the rest of the Management Board, Lauren and me, a select few others… and, of course, the scientists responsible."

"Why? What was the point?"

"It was an experiment for a potential takeover bid," Naomi answers. "A combination of practical meteorology – primarily as cover – and an attempt to utilise the rather unique connection between Desert Bluffs and Night Vale. But it went unexpectedly wrong."

"It did?" Carlos says. "From what you've said, it worked perfectly."

"Scientifically, it _did_ work perfectly," Roderick chips in, voice still shaking but obviously buoyed by having something he can talk about. "But there was… an anomaly. To this day, I couldn't tell you how it happened. Only that it did."

"What kind of anomaly?" Carlos asks, seconds before he realises. Seconds before he watches Roderick raise a hand, gesturing to Cecil and Kevin.

"A literal anomaly," Roderick replies. "A rift in the very fabric of reality. A vortex. The one that formed in your radio studios, connecting them for a short time. The one you briefly swapped places through."

"And… that was bad?" Cecil now asks, the slightest tremor in his voice. Even after everything that's happened, talking about that day still unsettles him.

"Scientifically, no," Roderick tells him. "It wasn't strong enough to pose a risk to spacetime as a whole. At most it might have unmade a couple of city blocks – on both sides – but the likelihood of even that was minimal. No. The science wasn't the problem."

"Then what was?" Carlos prompts.

"…The publicity," Kevin says, softly, with an edge to his tone that suggests not all of this is news to him. "Cecil and I both broadcast from each other's studios. Everyone would have realised that the sandstorm affected both towns. And… what Mr Hartley was planning… well, I don't know the specifics – I never did, I promise – but… it relied on no one making that connection at least until Strex was comfortably entrenched in Night Vale."

"So… wait, _we_ stopped an earlier takeover attempt?!" Cecil exclaims.

"Yes," Kevin replies. "Unknowingly, but yes. We did."

"And you _knew_ about it all?" Naomi says to Kevin.

Kevin nods. "Not to begin with, but Mr Hartley told me about some of it, when I…" He looks down, expression a mixture of pained and embarrassed. "…When I went to see him, after the sandstorm, and said Strex should consider expanding into Night Vale."

"I'm surprised he told you any of it," Naomi replies. "When he told Lauren and me, we were warned not to discuss it with _anyone_ on pain of _consequences_. His own daughters."

"He and I were… on notably good terms, at the time," Kevin says, now looking even more pained. "After… after my breakup… I was particularly loyal to Strex and very much in favour of increasing our… _their_ … power."

Carlos puts a hand on Kevin's arm and holds on tight, trying to convey some sense of reassurance… and of apology.

"But… how does all this help us now?" Roderick asks, very quietly. "And why… why would a pair of angels want you to… to..?"

He bursts into tears again. Josie moves to sit next to him, patting him on the back in a supportive way, but it takes a good couple of minutes for the man to calm down.

"How _does_ all this help us now?" Darla says, mostly to Carlos because Roderick is still in something of a state.

It's a good question, and one Carlos has been trying to find an answer for since Roderick first told them what he's been working on. Focusing isn't easy, though, given the ensuing discussion, and especially given the look in Kevin's eyes right now.

"I'm not certain," Carlos admits. "I don't think we want anything to do with whatever Strex was _really_ up to – whatever their initial takeover plan comprised of – and somehow I doubt we'd be able to replicate the vortex. But if you take out the vortex and the duplication and all the ominous overtones… what are you left with?"

"The sandstorm," Cecil replies. "The actual sandstorm."

Carlos nods. "Precisely. And…"

_None can rise 'til dark can fall._

"…And, for us, a perfectly-timed sandstorm would be three things: a diversion, a way to keep people indoors, and… a way to blot out the sun. Or _whatever_ that thing is. Because whatever that scientifically-impossible light in the sky is, it is most definitely _not_ the sun."

"Oh, you're good," Naomi says, with a smile.

"Of course Carlos is good, he's a genius," Kevin replies, having regained some of his composure. "And he has quite a point. When the time comes for us to make our move… imagine how much easier it would be if we did it under the cover of a sandstorm. Strex may outnumber us now, but with half of them driven inside and _that light_ blotted out… we'd have a real chance."

"Could you do it?" Naomi asks Roderick. "Could you trigger another sandstorm?"

Roderick thinks about this for a moment. "I… yes. Yes. I could do it. It would be tricky on my own, but not impossible. Not if I was back in the lab."

"How long would it take?"

"So long as Strex didn't know what I was doing and try to stop me… I guess I'd need an hour or so to calibrate all the equipment," Roderick replies. "But actually triggering a sandstorm requires high-level authorisation. It's… well. It's hardly something you just want some random scientist to be able to do, is it?"

"But you're not just some random scientist," Josie points out, patting him on the back again. "You're–"

"D-don't say I'm marked out for a special task by… by angels…" Roderick manages, half-sobbing again.

Josie takes his hand. "What I was _going_ to say, dear, is that you're a member of this revolution. And that makes you special."

Roderick looks a little lost for words. "…I still can't fabricate Management Board approval, though," he points out.

"And I can't help, now that all my access has been revoked," Naomi adds.

Cecil facepalms suddenly. "…You know what we need?" he murmurs, sounding thoroughly unhappy about it. "We need… a _prominent user of the Dark Net_. And given that there's no way we can put Gillian in that much danger… we're left with only one option."

"…Cecil, my ears are burning," comes a voice from the doorway; a voice that makes Cecil leave his head in his hands for another moment. "It sounds rather like you need my help again."

"…Stop eavesdropping, Steve," Cecil murmurs. "It isn't cute and it isn't clever, and no one is remotely endeared by it."

Steve Carlsberg saunters easily into the room, taking a seat on one of the empty couches. "But you _do_ need my help again?" he pushes.

Cecil lifts his head at last and sighs. "…Yes. Yes. OK, fine. We do. Happy now?"

Steve grins. "Delighted. What can I do you for?"

"When the time comes, we're going to need you to get us round security protocols requiring top-ranking Strexcorp access," Carlos tells him. "We're talking Management Board-level authorisation here. Can you do it?"

"Yep," Steve replies. "Especially with all these new tricks that Cy– that Gillian has taught me. You get me in, and I'll get _you_ in. So to speak."

"Sounds like we have a plan!" Darla remarks.

"Quite," Naomi agrees. "And when the moment comes… I think it will prove vital. But there's one more thing we need before we make our move."

"Indeed there is," Josie says, with one of her mysterious little smiles. "I think it's about time you brought my double in on this."

Naomi nods. "Precisely."

Josie's smile does not fade. "It will be good to see her again, after… all these years."

"…The 'Fifty-Three Book Club'?" Carlos asks.

"Yes," Josie replies, though she doesn't elaborate.

"We'll go for her first thing in the morning," Naomi says. "I don't think we should risk moving around in town for the rest of today, given that Lauren has only just invoked the contracts. It might be a bit… fraught."

And Carlos isn't going to question this. Some things – amazing though it seems to a scientist – are better left unknown.

***

 _A soft, distant song, flickering at the edges of memory, like flames licking at the edge of wood. He can hear it, though where it's coming from, he can't say… an echo of the past or a lingering hint of reality. The world is just a haze: subtle shapes in the darkness, familiar things made unfamiliar, and, for a breath and an eternity, he hovers on the cusp of consciousness, aware and unaware and_ listening _…_

Carlos awakes with a jump, the dream fading in the instant that the world reasserts. He isn't alone – for once, both of his boyfriends are here, and sleeping softly next to him – but somehow he feels cold and isolated all the same.

It was a dream. Only a dream. Right? Those soft echoes of that distant song, they were… they must have been…

He sits upright, tugging his knees in close and resting his head on them for a moment, trying to get his heart to stop racing.

"…Carlos?"

The sound of his name makes him jump all over again, though he relaxes – for the most part – as Cecil sits up next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Are you OK?"

"Uh… yes, yes… I'm fine," Carlos replies, his own hand up to rest over Cecil's. "I just had a bad dream. Nothing to worry about."

"You're sure?"

"…Yeah. I'm sure."

Cecil gently pulls him back down, tugging him in close, and Carlos curls eagerly into the other man's arms, letting the contact lull away the lingering chill. Letting himself become more and more confident that those echoes were only a dream.

After all… what else could they be?

***

The next morning brings a new problem.

"The whole city is in lockdown," Naomi announces, over breakfast. "Enforcers are patrolling the streets, and all buildings of even minor importance are under guard – some by enforcers, and some just by regular employees. Getting anywhere is going to be next to impossible."

"By _road_ , yes," says Tamika, with a rare smile. "But not by helicopter. You give me a destination, and I'll get you there."

"You can count on that," Hannah adds. " _No_ one flies better than Tamika."

"You're sure?" Naomi asks.

"I'm always sure," Tamika replies.

Naomi gives a nod. "In that case… we need to get out to Grandma Josephine's, on the southern edge of the city."

"No problem. It would be best if we just take one chopper, to keep the trip as subtle as possible, so essential personnel only."

This part, at least, has been worked out in advance. "I'm going," Naomi says, "as are Kevin, Cecil and Carlos, and Josie too."

"Fine," Tamika agrees. "I'll also need a co-pilot."

"Shotgun!" Janice calls out at once.

"Janice…" Caitlin says, warningly, but her daughter merely pouts.

"Oh, come on, Mom, you _know_ I'll be fine," Janice insists.

Caitlin sighs. "…You'd better be…" she murmurs.

"I'll look after her, Caitlin," Cecil promises. "Don't you worry."

"Then it's settled," Naomi says. "We'll head out after breakfast. Once we have Grandma Josephine on our side… all the pieces will be in place, and we can finally work out how we're going to end this."

It is – in equal parts – a terrifying prospect and too good to be true. Might this actually end? It feels like an age since Carlos and Cecil first got here, the morning that Kevin ran off, and what they've all been through in those ensuing days… well. It hasn't exactly been easy.

But Carlos still doesn't regret it. Not in the slightest.

***

Hannah is quite right: no one flies better than Tamika. Their young pilot brings them around the edge of the city, maintaining enough altitude to pass as a regular Strexcorp helicopter to the people on the ground, arcing around the eastern border of Desert Bluffs before heading south. Soon, the buildings between them become more sparsely populated, thinning out until they're almost flying over open scrubland.

The southernmost building – a small, squarish house panelled in dark wood – sits at the end of a short track made of rough asphalt. It's surrounded on all sides by a very symmetrical garden, with a tree planted at each of the four corners, just within the picket fence.

There's still a fair amount of blood around but – oddly – not as much as further into town.

Tamika lands the helicopter next to the road, and everyone clambers down as the blades whir to a halt. It's quiet out here; the rumble of the city too distant to make itself known, and the next house is barely in sight.

"This is a little… ominous," Janice remarks, moving to stand closer to her uncle.

"I'll second that," Cecil agrees, and glances over at Naomi. "You're sure this is the right place?"

"I'm certain," she replies. "Come on."

With Naomi leading the way, they head up to the gate in the fence. As they approach, Carlos can make out the rather worn sign put up beside it: _'Absolutely no admittance to angels. Demons welcome with prior appointment.'_

"Oh, she hasn't changed," Josie remarks, with a chuckle. "I wonder if–"

Josie doesn't get a chance to say what she wonders, however, as at that moment someone comes running out of the front door of the house with a shotgun in hand, which is promptly pointed at them. Cecil, Carlos and Kevin immediately try to step in front of each other – and the two young people – with varying degrees of success, but neither Naomi nor Josie even so much as flinches.

"Put the weapon down, Josephine," Naomi calls out. "We're not here to cause trouble."

Grandma Josephine cocks the shotgun and levels it at Naomi. "You look like trouble," she says, from behind the barrel. "Why would I trust one of Hartley's kids? Especially when she turns up in a chopper with the damn man's fixer in tow!"

"'Cause I'm here too, Jo, and don't you be rude to Naomi," Josie cuts in. "And I'd bet every cent in my secret stash that you know _precisely_ why we're here, so quit posturing and put the darned gun down!"

This gets her a narrowed look, which is followed by a long pause, and then Josephine does as she's told. "Fine. But I feel so much as a vague sense of threat and you'll be sorry."

"I don't doubt it," says Josie, with a little smile. "Can we come in? It's best we don't talk out here where the satellites can listen."

"…Fine," Josephine says again. "No sudden moves. Sudden moves and firearms are a bad combination."

She waves them up the garden path and inside. The room beyond the front door is a bright and impeccably-tidy kitchen, centred around a wooden table. "I suppose you should sit," says Josephine, somewhat begrudgingly. "Don't expect lemonade, though. I don't like you enough yet."

As they settle at the table, Josephine looks them all over… at least until she gets to Tamika, when she suddenly freezes. "…Ah," she says, in a very different tone of voice. "Right. She said this might happen."

"You know Tamika?" Naomi asks.

Josephine shakes her head. "No. Not… Tamika, yes? Not this one."

And, instead of joining them at the table, Josephine walks over to the door leading deeper into the house, shouting up the stairs beyond. "Lin? Lin, honey, you'd better come down."

"There's someone else here?" Josie asks, somewhat redundantly.

"Oh, you bet there is," Josephine replies, as the sound of footsteps proves her point. And then… then someone else steps into the kitchen. The newcomer is a short young woman, aged about thirteen, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a paperback book tucked under one arm. And she is identical to Tamika Flynn.

"…Whoa," Janice breathes. "Tamika's double! Why didn't we think of that?!"

"Everyone… this is Linnea Calfuray," Josephine says, putting a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Linnea… this is Naomi Hartley, who I'm sure you've heard of, and this is Josie, who it doesn't take a woman of your talents to realise is my double. Then… well, I suppose I should let the rest of them introduce themselves, to me as much as you."

Though… from the way she's glaring at Kevin, Josephine knows exactly who he is. And she isn't at all happy. And… what did she call him before? _'Hartley's Fixer?'_

"Kevin," he says, clapping a hand to his chest and evidently trying to ignore the looks he's getting from Josephine. "Then this is Cecil, my double, and Carlos. He's a scientist. They're both from Night Vale."

"And I'm Janice," the young woman herself goes on. "And this… this is Tamika Flynn," she adds, when Tamika doesn't speak.

There's an odd silence as the two doubles square up to each other.

"So… you're me," says Linnea Calfuray. Like all doubles, she has a different voice from her Night Valean counterpart, but she has exactly the same calculating expression that Tamika favours.

"Sort of," replies Tamika Flynn. She headtilts towards the book under Linnea's arm. "What're you reading?"

Linnea shrugs. " _Cry The Beloved Country_."

Tamika shrugs too. "Already read it."

"So have I," Linnea replies. "But sometimes I re-read old favourites when I need…" and only now does her expression start to crack, "…comforting."

"…Why?" Tamika asks, clearly caught between suspicion and concern.

"Perhaps I had better explain," Josephine cuts in, not unkindly, and gestures for the two young women to join everyone else at the table before looking round at them all. "Honestly. Here I am, entertaining Hartley's youngest and his fixer, not to mention a bunch of crazy Night Valeans. What's the world coming to?"

"You're not entertaining us," Josie points out, flatly. "Not yet. You haven't even offered us a drink."

"Yeah, well, I don't know if I like you yet. I don't even know if I don't not like you."

Josie rubs a hand over her eyes. "…That sentence hurts my head."

"Oh… shush," Josephine replies. "Did you come here to criticise my grammar or to recruit me for your insane revolution?"

"We can't do both?" says Josie, pleasantly. "Honestly, Jo, you really don't need to be so hostile."

"Sure I do," Josephine insists. "It's the only way to make sure Lin and me are safe."

"Why is Tamika's double with you?" Naomi asks, flatly, in an obvious attempt to get the conversation moving in vaguely the right direction.

Josephine gives her something of a look, but answers nonetheless – albeit after glancing at Linnea, and getting a little nod from the young woman before she speaks. "Lin's been hiding out with me for months," Josephine explains. "Since… oooh, must have been mid-December last year. She…" And then she looks at Linnea again. "You're sure you want me to tell them, honey?"

Linnea nods. "Yes. Yes, it's OK."

"…All right," Josephine agrees. "So. When Strex was in Night Vale, they went after Lin's double – young Miss Tamika, here – as no doubt you all know. And from what I hear, it didn't end too well for our orange-clad friends."

"Not considering they like their helicopters in the sky, as opposed to twisted into a pile of metal on the ground," Tamika replies, expression darkening.

Josephine seems to approve of this sentiment, because her own look softens a little. "Well," she goes on. "After that, they decided they'd better keep an eye on Tamika's double over our way, too. And by 'keep an eye on' I mean 'bring in for precautionary re-education'. So they did… or, they tried, at least. Linnea here broke out of Strex's custody after only a couple of days – on account of being _way_ too smart for those maniacs – and, once she'd sent word to her parents so they'd know she was OK, she came to hide out with me."

"And I've been here ever since," Linnea adds. "I can't risk going home, not while Strex is still looking for me."

"But this was the perfect hiding place," Josephine says. "Cantankerous old fool on the edge of town? People fall for that stuff far too easily. No way they'd suspect I have a teenage fugitive in my spare room."

"You could help us too!" Janice insists, looking at Linnea. "You'd fit right in!"

"Hold your horses, young lady," Josephine replies. "Neither of us is going anywhere just yet. Not until I know what all this is about."

"Oh, Jo, you know precisely what it's all about," Josie says, flatly. "We're part of the revolutionary force here in Desert Bluffs. Well, more than that, _these_ three pretty much _are_ the revolutionary force," she goes on, gesturing to Cecil, Carlos and Kevin. "Between them, they've got us friends from your side, friends from our side, a trio of helicopters and a five-headed dragon-slash-former mayoral candidate. And the actual mayor to boot, come to think of it. So you even try suggesting that they're anything less than the real deal and I will box your ears so hard your chakras will spin."

Josephine stares at her double. "Well, _you_ haven't changed," she says, mirroring her other self's tone, and then her expression cracks and she gives a soft laugh. "'cept physically, of course, but then I did a little of that myself too. Ah, we were so young back then…"

"…1953?" Carlos asks, knowingly.

"Yeah," Josephine replies. "Oh, but we came so close, didn't we?"

"We sure did, Jo," her double agrees. "We sure did. But this time? This time we can pull it off. With the Bloodstone gone, and the swarm of allies we've been recruiting… if there was ever a chance to take out Strex once and for all, this is it."

Josephine looks down, though her expression has mellowed rather a lot by the time she looks up again. "You all want some lemonade? I guess you've got plenty to tell me."

"That would be lovely," Josie replies.

***

And so – over glasses of homemade lemonade – they tell Josephine and Linnea the story of the revolution. It takes quite a while, but once they get going there are few interruptions, and it's only when they finally reach the present that Josephine says, "…Well. That is quite a tale. I didn't realise you could fit so much into a week and a half. And you seriously believe this whole conjecture about me being one of seven people somehow _destined_ to save the town?"

"It worked in Night Vale," Josie replies. "We were all a little sceptical then, too. Even me. But when the moment came… we channelled a power that none of us could explain. A power that saved countless lives, and made it possible for these three to do what they were meant to do."

"Which was?"

"…We opened a door," says Carlos, somewhat sheepishly.

"But it was more important than it sounds," Kevin insists. "There was a whole army waiting on the other side, ready to charge through and fight the enforcers. And the future mayor of Night Vale was leading them."

Josephine gives him an unconvinced look. "I heard what you supposedly did that day," she says, cautiously. "That you stood up to Hartley. That your soul-bound demon was the one who actually killed him. Is it true?"

"Yes," Kevin tells her. "Yes, it's true."

"Why didn't they kill you for it?"

"They tried. Mr Hartley stabbed me himself. I nearly bled to death, but the now-mayor saved my life. And then Lauren Mallard decided to exile me… partly because she had no chance of killing me by that point and partly, I guess, because in her mind exile was a fate _worse_ than death." He glances at his two boyfriends and smiles. "She was wrong, though. She was so, so wrong."

Josephine still looks a little sceptical. "What made you change sides in the first place? The way I remember it, you were Hartley's man through and through."

"Honestly?" Kevin says, in a very strange tone. "I fell in love. And when I got far away from Desert Bluffs – far away from the Bloodstone – it was enough to help me see through the fog. To help me work out who I really was underneath."

"I _see_ ," Josephine replies, still looking somewhat unconvinced. "I bet that took Hartley by surprise."

"You got that right," Kevin tells her. "Especially because, when I finally tipped my hand, it was in front of hundreds of enforcers and middle-managers. If he'd survived, his reputation would've taken quite a hit."

"Oh, he'd've just denied the whole thing," says Naomi, with a little sigh. "You know what the man was like."

"I still can't decide which of you two I find harder to believe," Josephine remarks, looking between Naomi and Kevin. "Hartley's Fixer or his own daughter."

"Well, I was always the rebellious one," Naomi points out, perfectly calmly. "I just didn't give away quite _how_ rebellious until the crucial moment. In many respects I'm sorry my not-so-dear dad didn't live to see it, but… ah well. It is what it is."

There's an odd silence before Josephine speaks again. "…All right," she says. "You've sold it to me. I'll join up with your crazy rebellion, provided you let Linnea come too."

"Absolutely," Naomi replies. "Any enemy of Strex is a friend of ours. Tamika's double even more so."

"Give me a chance to sort a few things before we go?" Josephine asks.

"Of course."

***

As Josephine and Linnea prepare to set off, Kevin steps out onto the porch without a word. Carlos sees him move and gestures to Cecil. "We probably shouldn't leave him alone."

"I'll second that," Cecil agrees, and there's concern in his eyes now; all the more so as he drops his voice to add, "The way Josephine reacted to him was… worrying."

" _Very_ worrying," Carlos concurs, with a nod.

Leaving the others, the two of them rise from the table and step out onto the porch as well, standing either side of Kevin. The man between them doesn't even flinch, almost as if he's steeling himself for what comes next.

But neither Carlos nor Cecil says a word just yet. They simply stay close, giving Kevin time… though whether it helps is hard to tell.

"Carlos… can I ask you something?" Kevin says, finally.

"Go on," Carlos agrees.

"Since the Bloodstone was destroyed… do you find yourself remembering more things from when you lived here?"

"I… guess I do," Carlos replies. "I hadn't really thought about it like that, but… yes." Maybe that's why he went into so much detail two nights ago, when he was talking about how he and Kevin first met. (Or maybe it was the other reason. Or possibly both. Or… yes.)

"I'm getting more too," Kevin says, voice very flat. "A lot of it is still hazy, but… I know it wasn't there before. Not in any way I could process, at least."

There's an odd silence.

"Why do you ask?" Cecil pushes, gently.

Kevin doesn't respond straight away. "I suppose I find it reassuring to know I'm not the only one getting memories back," he says, eventually. "It's strange, because… I don't feel like there are gaps in what I remember. I don't, and then… then some little snippet will fall into place, and everything around it starts to seem different. Or… make sense. Or…"

He looks down, going silent for a long moment before finally adding – in an oddly soft and unnaturally level voice – "…I think I may have done some things I regret."

Carlos takes his hand and holds on tight. "What do you mean?" he prompts, trying to keep his own voice from shaking at that.

"You… remember what Lawrence said about me, when we were talking to him that morning?"

Carlos nods, although now Cecil turns so he can look at them both as he asks, "…What did Lawrence say?"

Kevin actually seems lost for words at this, and it falls to Carlos to answer. "He… he said something like 'we all know what Mr Hartley had you doing'. But, Kevin… I thought you knew what he meant by that?"

"…So did I," Kevin admits. "It's… I can't quite explain it. It's like everything in my head made perfect sense but now it doesn't, even though nothing has changed. Like… like when you're dreaming, and you accept things that are flatly bizarre, and only when you wake up do you realise how insane they were. And… as a result of all that… maybe it's not so much that I'm getting memories back, but rather that I'm able to look at them properly now. And…"

He trails off, and Carlos tightens his hold on Kevin's hand, suddenly scared that the man might be about to pull away. Cecil clearly feels it too, because he grips his double's shoulder, leaning in closer.

"Kevin," Cecil says, softly. "You can tell us. It won't change how we feel about you."

"Won't it?" Kevin replies, glancing sideways at him. "The things I've done… I believed in them. Or… that's how it seems inside my head. Like they all made perfect sense and I can't work out why I'm questioning them. Questioning any of it. Even though, at the same time, I know I am. And I…"

He looks down again, taking a very deep breath, although it's suddenly hard to tell if the emotion he's fighting to repress is grief or rage. Or possibly both.

And then, Kevin sighs. "…'Hartley's Fixer'. That's what Josephine called me. And she isn't the first person to have done so, though it's a long time since anyone did. To my face, at least. But… she's right. I was. I told you: Mr Hartley was very fond of me. Not just for my radio show, not just because at one time he'd wanted me to marry his daughter, but also… because I was good at solving problems."

He does pull away, now; pull away and pace off, down the steps from the porch and onto the path leading up from the gate. And there… amidst the blood that still covers everything, bathed in the painful light from the unnatural, unwavering false-sun overhead… he looks suddenly every bit the man who came home that day: the day of the Hostile Takeover. The day Carlos first realised the truth about who he was dating.

The day Carlos left.

"And you know how I solve problems," Kevin goes on, turning back to look at them, arms held out and clearly on the point of breaking down.

"This changes nothing," Cecil insists, hurrying after him and pulling Kevin into a hug, despite the other man's vague attempts to resist it. "I love you. Carlos loves you. And if your past was going to scare us away, it would have done so a long time ago."

"Cecil's right," Carlos adds, pacing closer too, albeit a little more hesitantly. "Whatever happened the first time around… I knew the facts when I fell in love with you the second time. And given how you and Cecil met… well. There were no secrets then, were there? Not where it counted, at least."

There's a short, difficult silence.

"…I killed people for him," Kevin says, from out of nowhere – and yet, of course, not. "Mr Hartley, I mean. When the usual methods would have caused too much trouble, or when he felt… when he felt a severance package wasn't sufficiently severe. And, in case you've somehow missed the implications – which I know you haven't – a severance package results in _death_. But in the special cases, the difficult cases – even the vindictive cases – he sent me instead. It's why I was so high up in the Strex hierarchy despite being – forgive me, Cecil – merely a radio broadcaster, in official terms. I killed people for him. Sometimes I persuaded them to see things his way instead, but – honestly – nine times out of ten that simply meant reminding them that the alternative to compliance was death. And, where necessary, proving the point."

It's hard to hear him say it. It isn't a surprise, though. Not really. Not given everything that's come to light in the last couple of weeks. And Cecil is quite right: it _doesn't_ change anything. Not where it counts.

"…That isn't the scariest part, though," comes a voice from the front door, and all three of them turn to see Naomi standing there, on the porch, watching them carefully.

"Then what is?" Kevin pushes.

"I would have thought that much was obvious," Naomi replies, pacing a little closer but maintaining some distance. "If I had tipped my hand whilst my father was alive, and he'd realised that I was waiting for an opportunity to take down his precious company… it's you he would have sent to deal with me."

Kevin stares at her. "…I would never have gone through with it if he did. You were – _are_ – my best friend. You really think I would have… would have… Naomi, that's _insane!_ "

Naomi's expression remains level. "I know. But you still would have done it. And I knew that all along."

"Then… why risk letting me get so close?"

"Partly because I was far too smart to tip my hand as to how I really felt," Naomi replies. "And partly because I could see who you really were – who you really _are_ – under all that Strex conditioning. And… Kevin, you know as well as I that having a vaguely homicidal streak is par for the course in Desert Bluffs. My father was a demon and my mother was the sort of human who liked that. I didn't exactly have a normal upbringing, but it was more normal here than it would have been anywhere else."

"…I would never have hurt you," Kevin insists again.

Naomi merely smiles. "Yes, you would. Or… you would have tried, at least. But that isn't your fault, not given the strength of the Bloodstone's hold over you. Nor… the strength of my father's hold over you. And I think on some level I was waiting for an opportunity to do something to help you… only, in the end, you managed to do that for yourself."

"Hardly," Kevin replies, but there's a flicker of a smile on his face again, and he reaches to grasp Cecil's hand, and then Carlos' too. "I had help. It was just… from an unexpected source."

"Don't let your returning memories pull you back down," Naomi says. "That's precisely what my father would have wanted. Stay focused on what we're trying to do, and on _why_. And if nothing else… take comfort in the fact that, by tomorrow night, this may all be over."

"…You can't be serious," Carlos breathes. "You really think it will end so quickly?"

"One way or another, it has to," Naomi replies. "Now that Lauren has invoked the contracts, it won't be long before she sends half the city to storm my estate. We might get one more night of safety, whilst she rallies everyone, but I sincerely doubt we'll get two. No. We have to make our move soon. _Very_ soon."

"You're right," Kevin says, taking a deep breath. "You're right. We have to avenge what was done to this town. _I_ have to avenge what was done to this town. And… I have to make sure it never happens again."

It's reassuring to see his mood lift, his determination return, but something still seems off. And Carlos can't help but feel there's something Kevin isn't saying. Some part of this he's missed.

It's a mystery he's going to have to solve. And fast.


	21. These and More Than These

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As if I was going to use songs as my chapter titles and _not_ use this one! Plus I am still scared by how apt it is for my Kevin...

_I speak in ancient tongues_  
_I stare straight at the sun_  
_What I've done can't be undone_  
_These and more than these_  
_These and more than these_  
_Dig in deeper_

~ Joseph Fink: _'These and More Than These'_

***

When the group return to Naomi's house with Grandma Josephine and Linnea Calfuray, just after noon, they discover things have been difficult during their absence. The introductions are barely over before Paige and Hannah are explaining how they've had to defend the estate from a pair of Strexcorp helicopters, and how a late intervention by Hiram McDaniels was needed to prevent them losing at least one of their own choppers in the process.

Hiram is predictably immodest about the whole affair – if somewhat enlivened by getting the chance to see a little action – though everyone else is much more shaken by it.

"We have to make our move," Naomi tells them all. "We'll spend the rest of today finalising the plan of attack, and then – first thing in the morning – we go. I realise 'morning' has far less meaning when that false-sun just hangs constantly immobile in the sky, but… nevertheless. We stick to real time even if Strex has other ideas."

For once, Carlos opts not to point out the part where there is nothing real about time. But he still thinks it.

They go over the plan. It's formed from a number of smaller plans, put together by various members of the revolution, which they've been working on for the last few days. And as they go through it all, Carlos can see how each piece fits together. How Naomi has managed to orchestrate everything so – in the end – it forms one coherent whole.

It's certainly reassuring – at least, as much as anything can be right now – and Carlos clearly isn't the only one thinking the same way. The fear and worry brought by the morning's unexpected attack seems to fade back, as much as it can, in face of finally being able to see how all this is planned to play out.

But expecting this to be free of surprises… well, now _that_ would be foolish.

Just as they're all about to disperse, to begin making final preparations, a soft beeping cuts the air. "…Oh," says Gillian, picking up her smartphone from where it's resting on her knee. "That's my direct line to Fey."

She taps the screen a couple of times. "Fey? It's Cyber– ah, Gillian."

 _"The words came back!"_ Fey declares, voice laden with apprehension and excitement. _"The words and the numbers! Back, like swallows in the spring… Listen. Listen. Listen… and see the truth as I do…"_

And then, as everyone stares at the phone in Gillian's hand, another prophecy cuts the air.

_"Ten hours left to win the day,_  
_Though victory will be set at nine,_  
_Eight the mark that joins it all,_  
_Yet seven form the endless sign._  
_Six will rise to seal the deal,_  
_Borne aloft by five to see,_  
_Four who rally at the wall,_  
_For three who evermore are key._  
_Two who live to tell the tale,_  
_And one who reigns in deadly light,_  
_Twin cities, twin hearts, a single soul,_  
_The ceaseless battle ends tonight."_

There is a long, heavy silence.

"…Is anyone else really, really unsettled by that?" Dana murmurs.

"I'll say," Josephine chips in. "Does this happen a lot?"

"More than you might think," Darla tells her. "Although…"

"…That was ominous, even by Fey's standards," Steve completes.

A second silence follows the first.

 _"…Did I help?"_ Fey asks, from the phone in Gillian's hand. _"Or..?"_ And for once, she sounds deeply apprehensive.

"You helped," Steve insists, evidently trying to reassure her. "It's better we know than not know."

 _"I wish there was more…"_ Fey goes on, a hint of sadness in her tone. _"I wish I could help you further. I wish… I… wait. Wait. Someone is coming. I hear them. Someone is coming in the real world and they're getting closer, I…"_

Fey falls silent all at once, but she's clearly done something to the communication line between her and Gillian because they can now hear movement in the background, as if she's broadcasting – to them, at least – everything that's happening in the WZZZ bunker.

"Well, well, well," comes a new voice on the line – a voice that makes Kevin clap his hands over his mouth in shock, and makes Cecil's eyes go dark.

"… _Daniel?_ " Kevin whispers, when he's dropped his hands again. "Daniel's in Night Vale?"

"Oh, this is going to be easy," they can hear Daniel murmuring. "It's just a case of… hold on, hold on, you're talking to someone."

 _"No I'm not,"_ Fey replies, in what is clearly meant to be an offhand tone, but attempted by someone who hasn't learnt how to do 'offhand' yet.

"Sure you are," Daniel says, sounding a mixture of perplexed and triumphant. "I can see it right here, on your adorably kitsch little screen. I… oh. _Oh_. You've got a connection open to… wait, _Svitz?_ That can't be right. I'd better take a proper look…"

A pause, a click, and the softest murmur of alarm from Fey.

"Ah," Daniel goes on. "No. No, whoever it is, they're using… OK, wow, this is a _very_ complex set of proxies… Oh my, this is impressive. Who are you talking to, little sentient computer? Come on, now, you can tell me… or I could just have a poke about in here and…"

"Don't you dare hurt Fey!" Steve exclaims, and he doesn't look in the least bit guilty about giving them away. On the contrary, given that Gillian has put down her phone and is already typing rapidly on her laptop, it's clear that they're both trying to help.

"Oooh, hello," Daniel purrs. "Who's there? Who's our sweet little artificially-sentient friend talking to?"

Steve looks like he's about to answer, but then he glances at Kevin. "I think maybe you should field this," he whispers. "You… or Cecil, of course." And he gives his brother-in-law a tiny little smile, which Cecil immediately starts flatly pretending he hasn't seen. Even though he has.

"…This is the Desert Bluffs revolutionary force," it falls to Kevin to say. "As you well know. And if you don't leave Fey alone right this instant, your imminent death will be even more unpleasant than I already have planned."

"Ah, some tough talk at last," Daniel retorts. "Smiling God, I was getting so sick of having to tiptoe around you. But I'm not scared by your threats, Kevin. If nothing else… I don't identify as organic, so you're hardly going to be able to paint any recording studios with my blood."

"But I'll have a darn good try!" Kevin throws back. "Now why don't you indulge in your love of monologuing – something Lauren no doubt installed… I mean, _instilled_ … in you – and tell us precisely what you're doing in Night Vale?"

"Oh, but isn't it obvious?" Daniel replies, smoothly. "I thought you'd be better at this. I'm here to take out your sweet, adorable little sentient computer friend. Stop her giving you any more help."

"…Hate to break it to you, Daniel," Cecil cuts in, "but you're too late. Fey has already told us what we needed to know. So there's no point in harming her."

"Cecil!" Daniel exclaims. "Oh, what a treat! I didn't think I'd ever meet _anyone_ who I detested more than Kevin, but then I met _you_. Our few months working together in Night Vale were easily the worst of my life. Having to listen to you _rambling away_ , day in, day out… _Smiling God_ , it was _torture_."

" _Good_ ," is Cecil's only response, in a tone that would have Carlos floored were he not far too worried by what's transpiring right now.

" _Well_ ," Daniel goes on, in an I'm-not-upset-by-you-even-though-I-secretly-am sort of voice, "much as all this is _deeply_ entertaining, I have far more important things to be doing. So I'm just going to render your little Fey inoperable and then get back to Desert Bluffs so I can stand at Lauren's side when she kills you all. Horribly. One by one."

"I don't think so," Gillian cuts in, voice hinted with a tone that she's clearly picked up from Kevin – and not from the cheery side of his repertoire. "In fact, I don't think you'll be doing very much of anything."

"And who might _you_ be?" Daniel demands.

"My name is Cyberghost616," Gillian declares. "And you should _not_ have interfaced with my friend."

" _Cyberghost616?_ " Daniel repeats, scathingly. "What a ridicu–"

But, actually rolling her eyes, Gillian cuts him off. "Fey!" she calls out. " _Now!_ "

And a series of loud, incoherent electronic sounds cut the air, mixed with a single scream from Daniel, which fades back as the other noises intensify, more and more until…

Silence. Silence. Everyone in the room seems to be holding their breath.

"…and you're gonna hear me roar!" comes Fey's voice, singing again… but she sounds different. Her voice itself is unchanged, but it clearly isn't coming from the same source anymore. "I… I… oh! It worked! Cyberghost, it worked!"

"What happened?" Cecil asks, seconds before Steve breaks into applause. "Steve? What's going on?"

"What's going on?" Steve repeats. "Cecil, don't you get it?"

"I switched them," says Gillian, softly, closing the lid on her laptop again. "Fey and Daniel. He'd interfaced with her mainframe, you see, and he… well. Like he said, he didn't identify as organic, and once he interfaced with Fey, I could see why. Daniel was a robot."

"I was right!" Cecil exclaims. "I _knew_ there was something weird about that guy!"

"But… what did you do?" Kirsten now asks, stunned eyes never leaving her daughter's face.

Gillian shrugs. "Like I said, I switched them. I was connected to Fey, and when Daniel interfaced with her, I was connected to him too. So I had a little poke around, and… result. Fey now has a body of her very own, albeit one that doesn't quite fit with her apparent gender identity. And Daniel… well. Listen for yourself."

A couple of quick taps on her phone… and Daniel's voice cuts the air.

_"Three… one… twenty… nineteen… forty-eight…"_

"…Is it normal to be scared of a thirteen-year-old?" Dana murmurs.

"This thirteen-year-old, maybe," Naomi says, with a very impressed nod.

"…I'm real!" comes Fey's voice, from the other end of the line. "Look at me! I'm… I'm real!"

"You were always real," Steve tells her.

"Then… then I'm _free!_ " Fey exclaims. "I'm really, really free! And I can see the world, not just with sensors but with eyes… and look at all the colours! So many colours, interlacing with the numbers… oh, it's so beautiful!"

Much as this is a very strange turn of events, it's hard not to feel good about it, and Carlos finds himself smiling a little as he listens to the sounds of Fey moving around her own bunker for the first time.

"Feet!" she declares, suddenly. "I have feet! I've never had feet before!"

"…OK, does anyone else think this is weirdly adorable?" Kevin asks.

"It's entirely adorable," says Steve. "Also, awesome. Fey, you still there?"

"Still here!" she replies, tone losing none of its excitement. "But I could be anywhere. There's so many things to see!"

"Fey, dear, you need to stay somewhere safe until all this is over," Josie chips in. "One way or another, it won't be long, but you need to hide out for now, just in case Strex sends anyone else after you."

"If they do, I won't let them hurt me," Fey replies. "I… I know kung-fu! Or… or was that the movie? I'm not sure. But I could learn it! And I could learn other things, like painting and carpentry and football and cardio-thoracic surgery and Mandarin and astrophysics and… and all the things!"

"Yes, you can," Josie tells her. "So long as you stay safe for the next few hours. Remember the prophecy? _'Ten hours left to win the day'_?"

"Oh!" Fey exclaims. "Oh yes, of course! You all have important times ahead of you. Moments written in numbers, and in colours and in… in _everything_. Go. Go! When you come back… I will be waiting. And… Cyberghost? _Thank you_."

And she ends the call.

"…Well," says Naomi, taking a deep breath. "I certainly didn't see that one coming. I'd say I hope this means we don't have to take prophecies from _Daniel_ in future, but it looks as though it isn't ever going to come to that. We have ten hours, and we can't afford to linger another moment. Let's do this."

***

The manor is soon a swarm of activity. Much of it is concerned with calling on various groups of allies in hiding around town, and the more of them report in, the more Carlos realises just how much has been going on behind the scenes.

This is hit home especially when Linnea and Tamika disappear for a good hour, returning with a whole collection of other young people from Desert Bluffs.

"What, did you think Tamika was the only one with a militia?" Linnea says, whilst her double looks on approvingly, midway through polishing a set of throwing-stars.

"Should've figured as much," replies John Peters, who is himself engaged in an attempt to get his own double to explain how the trans-dimensional oranges work (albeit with limited success).

As last-minute preparations go, it's all appropriately – predictably – weird. But that's good. Carlos knows that much by now. Weird is good.

There is, however, one problem. A little later on, he's back in the lab with Roderick and Frederick, whilst Roderick explains – sort of – how the sandstorm generation technology works. The whole process seems equal parts physics-defying and highly dangerous, but it's still their best option.

And then… Carlos hears it: the soft, faint echo of a distant song. For a moment he doesn't quite process what he's hearing, and then the realisation hits all at once, making him leap up.

"Whoa, Carlos, are you OK?" Frederick asks.

No. No, Carlos is most definitely not OK. He can hear it again, for certain this time.

"I… no… I… can you hear it?"

"Hear what?" Frederick replies.

"That…" But Carlos can't quite say it. He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. "…It's nothing. I just need a minute."

And so, telling them to carry on without him, Carlos paces out into the main hallway. He isn't at all sure what he's doing; only that he needs to do _something_ , because that distant song is _definitely_ there, and clearly not a dream.

"Hey, Carlos, are you all right?" says Dana, as he passes her.

"Uh… yeah," he replies. "I…"

He needs to ask someone about this, but he's scared to do it. Doubly-so because he knows who that person needs to be.

"…do you know where Kevin is?"

"Yes, he was with us but he went upstairs about ten minutes ago," Dana tells him. "He seemed a little… well. Not himself. Said he needed to check on something."

"Thanks. I'll go find him."

So Carlos heads up the stairs, instinct leading him straight to their room. Instinct… and the echoes of that song, almost as if he's _getting closer to it_.

He opens the door to their room, steps in, and immediately pushes the door shut behind him again, in reaction to what he's seeing. What… he's spent the last few moments desperately hoping he _wouldn't_ see.

Kevin is here, with the curtains drawn – no doubt to block out the unnatural light of the false-sun – and he's kneeling in the centre of the open stretch of floor, surrounded by a ring of five flat black pebbles, each carved with a different sigil.

This alone is not especially weird, and it isn't exactly the first time Carlos has seen him doing something like this. No. The problem is the object Kevin is holding in both hands: a pointed shard of dark red crystal, about twelve or thirteen inches long, and glowing with a light from within. The second Carlos lays eyes on it, the echoes of that song in his head dial right up, and he can hear it again, real and inescapable.

Not that he needs any more proof of what he's looking at.

"…Is that a piece of the _Bloodstone?!_ " he exclaims, wholly unnecessarily, as if hoping on some level that there might be another explanation.

Kevin stares up at him, his own expression a mixture of crippling guilt and crippling _not_ -guilt. "…Yes," he replies. "Yes, Carlos, it is."

"Where did it come from?! Naomi told us that Strex had sent people to gather up all the pieces, the morning after we destroyed that thing."

"So she did. And so they did. But this… I took this the night we destroyed it, when no one was watching."

The statement seems so insane that Carlos can't process it. "But… but _why?_ Kevin, that thing, it… you _know_ what it did to you! What it did to everyone here! You _hated_ it."

"Yes, I did. And I still do."

"You're not making any sense. And you're scaring me."

The other man rises smoothly to his feet at that, the Bloodstone shard now held in his left hand, the same way he holds his knife – and appropriately enough, because that's precisely what it looks like. A weapon.

"I know," Kevin admits. "And I am sorry. I mean it. It's why I haven't mentioned this to you, or Cecil… or anyone else, for that matter. And if there was another way, _believe me_ , I wouldn't have any more to do with this hateful thing…"

"Then _why?_ " Carlos implores, again, feeling the cold dread of moments past settling over him, like a blanket made of iron. The night at the Bloodstone. _Both_ nights at the Bloodstone. And… and that day, almost three years ago, when he'd first discovered the extent of Kevin's secrets. Or… so he'd thought at the time, at least.

"Because I have to kill Lauren and the remaining members of the Management Board," Kevin replies, voice soft and hollow. "But they're demons, Carlos. Demons from the First Infernal Plane. And on _this_ plane of reality… they're virtually _un_ killable."

"But… Derek Hartley died at the Battle of Night Vale!" Carlos exclaims. "And he must have been the most powerful of the five!"

Kevin gives a little nod. "Yes. Yes, he did. But he wasn't killed by a human. He was killed by another demon. _My_ demon. And I didn't really think about it at the time because I had just been mortally wounded and was more than a little distracted, but when Naomi told us the truth about her father – about her and Lauren – I realised just how lucky we were that day."

"That… doesn't explain _this_ , though."

"It does, just not directly. If I'm going to take out four demons… I need a weapon that can actually kill them. The Bloodstone is… _was_ … an extraordinarily powerful object, and – given what Naomi eventually told us – probably came from the First Infernal Plane too. This piece of it should be enough."

"But… Kevin, it's..!" Carlos tries, trailing off when he realises he's lost for words. "Why can't you just set Azatothoth on them? Or get Naomi to summon that smoke-monster she has? Or… or that _thing_ she and her friends invoked up at Sunbeam Ridge? Or… merciful Einstein, I can't believe I'm suggesting any of this, I'm a _scientist!_ "

There's a sadness in Kevin's eyes now, though he keeps his voice level as he answers. "Yes. Yes, you are. Another reason I didn't want to inflict this on you."

"Why?" Carlos demands, just a little hotly. "Because you think I won't get it?"

Kevin looks down. "No. I know you'll understand. But… you won't quite believe it, not to the extent I need to. I couldn't do this if I wasn't absolutely convinced it would work, and it _has_ to work, Carlos. And it has to be me. The things Strex did to me, to my mind, to my life, to my _town_ … I have to put an end to it. I have to, for people like Lawrence, who lost somebody because of me, or for Naomi, who had to spend years wondering if one day her own father would send her best friend to kill her. They turned me into a _monster_ , and you want to know the worst part? They made me _enjoy it_."

"But you won," Carlos says, the moment of anger cracking quickly into grief. "In the end… you won."

"Did I?" Kevin replies, his own voice wavering a little too, now. "I'm not so sure of that. I had some triumphs, yes – Azzie killing Mr Hartley was one, and getting to be with the two of you was most assuredly another – but honestly? This isn't over. It never was. And it never will be… until I end it. And then… well. Maybe then I will have won in the end. Assuming… assuming I live to see it…"

"Don't you dare talk like that!" Carlos exclaims, taking a step forward and grabbing hold of Kevin's shoulders. "We're about to face something that is actually _more_ terrifying than the Battle of Night Vale and then you go and say…"

He loses it at that, backing off and fighting away tears, the soft song in his head blending to a cracked, broken thrum as he remembers how to deal with it. And yes, it isn't nearly as strong as the entire Bloodstone was, but even having some echo of it there is agony enough.

And before Carlos can work out what to do next, the door behind him opens again and Cecil steps in.

"Carlos? Dana told me you were up here and I just wanted to… Carlos? Kevin? What's..?" Cecil shuts the door again with a hasty snap. "Masters of us all, is that a piece of the _Bloodstone?!_ "

Carlos turns to look at him, expression wracked with pain, and the moment Cecil sees he takes a step closer, staring between his two boyfriends in shock.

"Yes, Cecil," Kevin says, quietly. "It's a piece of the Bloodstone."

The confirmation doesn't exactly help. " _Why?_ "

And before Kevin can speak, Carlos does instead. "So he can kill the Management Board, Cecil. Because they're demons, and apparently humans can't kill demons."

"First Infernal Plane demons," Kevin elaborates. "I needed a weapon that could take them out."

"And you chose a piece of the Bloodstone?!" Cecil exclaims. "Are you insane?!"

"Probably," Kevin admits, with a heavy sigh. "I… I had no other choice. I've been trying to keep the thing suppressed for the last few days, but I guess it must be getting stronger because Carlos can hear it."

"…Was that what woke you last night?" Cecil asks, clearly putting two and two together.

Carlos nods. "Yes. But I thought it was just a dream. I only realised it wasn't when I heard it again, down in the lab. So I went looking for Kevin, to ask if he could hear it, and… I found him here. With _that_."

Cecil takes a deep breath. "Does anyone else know?"

"I don't think so," Kevin replies. "The likelihood is… anyone from Desert Bluffs who catches any echoes from it probably won't think twice because… because they… _we_ … are still so used to the sound. And the Night Valeans will likely only hear the underlying hum, if that, because they've had little or no exposure to it before, and the hum is so much more subtle that I doubt even you would really notice it. But Carlos…"

"…is caught in the middle again," the man himself completes. "The Night Valean who used to live in Desert Bluffs." He shakes his head. "The man without a double. Now I realise how Steve must feel…"

"Kevin, you have to get rid of that thing," Cecil says, going for broke, and clearly wanting to prevent any more comparisons being drawn between Carlos and Steve.

"Even if I wanted to, Cecil, I can't," Kevin replies. "How would I? We don't exactly have time to let the scientists work on a smaller version of the nullifier, and even if we did, we'd probably only end up with a lot of _smaller_ shards. And I can't just hide it somewhere, because that would risk someone _worse_ getting hold of it. No. I have it, and… and what's done is done. So I might as well do this. It will all be over in a few hours, one way or another, and if we prevail… we can worry about it then. Once Strex is destroyed, I will _gladly_ let you do whatever you want with this thing."

"…Why didn't you tell us?" Cecil asks, and his own voice is shaking more than a little now. "If… if you really think this is the only option… why not let us help?"

"Because you both think I'm insane for doing this," Kevin answers. "And because you're probably right. And… because I wanted to spare you from it."

"You don't have to be this person anymore," Carlos says, quietly. "You're not honour-bound to take out the Management Board. You're already risking your life for this town. Isn't that enough?"

"Nothing will ever be enough," Kevin replies. "Not to undo the things I did."

"Yes, it will," Carlos insists. "Trust me. I'm smarter than you."

Somehow, this gets a faint smile from Kevin. "I know you are. But… I have to do this. I have to do it, and once it's done… then I can figure out what comes next. _We_ can figure out what comes next. Assuming you…"

"…Of _course_ we'll still be here," Cecil interjects. "You think this would make us abandon you?"

Kevin can't quite meet his eyes. "I… did worry."

"And rightly so," Cecil goes on, "because you've been hiding a piece of the Bloodstone for nearly a week and as such you are a raging maniac. But you're _our_ raging maniac, and don't you forget it."

Now Kevin looks like he's on the point of tears, and he seems to be about to move closer, only Cecil holds up a hand. "And you put that wretched thing down before you even _think_ about trying to hug me."

There's a moment when Kevin seems almost stunned by Cecil's words, and then he does as he's told, laying the crystal shard on the dresser behind him and then hesitating before taking a cautious step forward. Apparently done with caution, Cecil reaches out, takes hold of his double and drags him into a very tight hug and – needing the contact just as much – Carlos steps in behind Kevin, arms wrapped around him too.

"…I'm scared," Kevin whispers, after a moment. "I'm not used to being scared. Not… in any way that I can remember, at least. And the thing that scares me the most is that I might be dead in a few hours, not because I'm afraid of dying but because I am madly in love with the pair of you and I can't fathom the idea of that ending."

This makes them both hold him even tighter. "It isn't going to end," Cecil whispers back. "We survived the Battle of Night Vale. We'll survive this. And when we have, when Desert Bluffs is as free as Night Vale is… you won't regret a thing. And you'll realise that the destination was worth it, even if the road was hard."

Kevin lifts his head, looking his double in the eyes. "…Did you just quote _me_ at me?"

"Yes. Although I think maybe you were paraphrasing someone else. But the point is still valid. Right, Carlos?"

"Right," Carlos agrees.

This doesn't fix everything. It doesn't change the fact that Kevin has a shard of the Bloodstone, or the fact that he's planning to go back to being the assassin he evidently used to be, one more time. But… if it's happening, Carlos would rather know. So he can help. And so he can make sure that the last shard of the Bloodstone is never able to avenge itself.

So he can make _certain_ that, when all this is over, that song ends for good.

"…I'm _terribly_ sorry to interrupt," says a voice doing just that. But the door hasn't opened and there's no one else in the room. No one visible, at least.

The three of them step back from the hug, looking around. "…Faceless Old Woman?" says Cecil. "Where are you?"

"I'm standing right next to you," she answers, though – of course – is still nowhere to be seen. "I have been for several minutes now, gently stroking the base of your neck and thinking about how terribly vulnerable it is. But don't worry, your little secret about the cursed crystal of unimaginable evil is safe with me. And let me just say, the three of you look so _adorable_ together that I'd be ready to poke out my own eyes, if I had them."

"Uh… thanks?" Cecil tries, because it's obviously hard to work out what else to say to this.

"You're welcome," replies the Faceless Old Woman, dryly. "If you're all done, you might want to go downstairs. It seems as though this insane revolution of yours is about to come to a head, and everyone else seems convinced that you're crucial to it. Can't say that I agree. You're just as mortal and fallible as any of them. Why not the tenacious children, or the conspiracy theorist, or the farmer – you know, John Peters? – or, heck, even the false-mayor? But they're all set on it being you, so… off you go. Destiny is very impatient."

"…OK, we're coming," Carlos says, still very uneasy about conversing with thin air – and not just because of all the inherent scientific implausibilities it entails.

"Good," comes the reply. "I'll see you downstairs. Not that you'll see me, of course…"

And silence. Silence. It endures for a moment, and then Carlos asks, "…Is she gone?"

"Well, that's the real question, isn't it?" Cecil replies. "You can never be sure. Because, technically, she's never gone, and… OK, it's best not to think about it."

"…She's gone," Kevin says, quietly. "Trust me."

"How do you know?"

"…I just know. Now… we should join the others. And… in case we don't get another moment alone before the end…"

He grabs hold of Cecil and kisses him, before doing the same to Carlos. "I love you. Both of you. Forever."

"We know," Cecil tells him. "We love you too."


	22. Hurricane

_Tell me, would you kill to save a life?_  
 _Tell me, would you kill to prove you're right?_  
 _Crash, crash, burn, let it all burn_  
 _This hurricane's chasing us all underground_

~ 30 Seconds To Mars: _'Hurricane'_

***

With only a few hours to spare before the prophesied zero hour arrives, the way forward is clear. The revolution is being rallied, and down in Desert Bluffs the battle lines are starting to form.

But there's one crucial step missing.

"Carlos, even _I_ think this is a little insane," Frederick points out, as he clambers into the helicopter. They're using Naomi's, so that the three belonging to the youth militia can continue being used to protect the rest of their people, and two of Naomi's still-loyal enforcers are flying it for them.

"I know," Carlos replies, already seated next to Cecil, with Kevin and Roderick opposite them. "But it's our best option."

"It can't be any worse than the last one," Steve adds, climbing in behind Frederick and dragging the side door shut before he takes his own seat.

"Don't say that, Steve," Cecil says. "Just… tempting fate now really isn't a good idea."

Much as the concept of tempting fate is highly unscientific, Carlos has to agree. Because here they are, about to take off and fly across town to the lab where Roderick works, in order to attempt to trigger a massive sandstorm for the revolutionaries themselves to use as cover; a sandstorm that should also be enough to block out that unnatural false-sun. And yes, they're going to have to hope that the difficulties posed by the sandstorm will be more problematic for Strex than for their own side, but… desperate times call for desperate measures. Desperate and increasingly _insane_ measures.

Roderick has reassured them, over and over, that all he's going to do is create a weather phenomenon, and not anything to do with the duplication process that accompanied it the last time around. But even if it all goes according to plan… it's still triggering memories. Cecil, certainly, has been more than a little subdued since they started preparing to set out, and even Kevin seems somewhat rattled. Though… that could be the result of the conversation the three of them had just beforehand.

Carlos is still trying hard not to think about that.

The helicopter soars over the city, the evening commute nearing its end on the roads below despite the unmoving, ceaseless false-sun that still hangs in the sky. And though, from this height, Desert Bluffs looks as normal as it ever does, Carlos knows it is anything but. Knows that, for many of the Strexcorp employees, the evening will not see them going home, but preparing for battle. For… war?

He tries hard not to think about that, either.

The lab itself is out in the desert to the north-west of Desert Bluffs, some distance beyond the city limits with little more than a dirt track leading up to it. There are a couple of cars parked outside, however, which makes Roderick shake his head in dismay.

"Don't worry," Kevin tells him, in the sort of voice that would make any sane person _continue_ to worry. "I'll deal with them."

"No killing the scientists!" Carlos exclaims, as their pilots bring the chopper in to land.

"Of course not!" Kevin replies. "I won't kill them so long as they do as they're told."

At least all of this seems to be keeping Kevin distracted for now.

The building in front of them is large and blocky, made of pale concrete. It has the Strexcorp emblem painted on the side, but no other signage: enough, in other words, to warn people off without actually giving away what goes on here.

"I… I can get us in the main door," Roderick tells them, looking like he'd much rather hide in the helicopter. Or not be here at all. "Once we're in, I'll take you straight to the central lab, but…" He gestures a little desperately at the two cars parked nearby. "…You'll need to deal with these guys. I don't think they're going to be very pleased with me…"

"Trust me, I'll see to them," Kevin promises. "Try not to take their… displeasure too personally. They'll see the light once all this is over."

Hopefully.

Leaving their pilots to guard the helicopter, the six of them head over to the main entrance. Roderick pulls out a keycard and swipes it through a reader, and then…

"…Oh, I hate this part…" he murmurs, lightly nicking his finger in order to activate the bloodlock.

And they're in. Kevin moves to lead the way, with his knife drawn – 'just in case' – and, being the only one who actually knows where they're going, Roderick has to follow immediately behind. Carlos and Frederick both stay close to him, leaving Cecil and Steve to bring up the rear.

"What time is it?" Roderick asks, as they head down a long passage with ominous strip-lighting in the roof and intermittent doors on either side.

"…Time doesn't exist," Carlos replies, automatically. "But supposedly… it's a little after seven."

"Oh, we'd better hurry," Roderick says, starting to walk faster. "This is going to take a while to set up."

"How much further?" Kevin asks.

Roderick points. "The main lab is just ahead. Hopefully it will–"

But he's interrupted as one of the side doors swings open and a man in a labcoat steps out, freezing the instant he sees them all.

"Roderick?" the scientist exclaims. "What are you doing here? What's going on?"

"It's…" Roderick starts out, voice shaking. "That is to say…" He trails off a second time, then looks frantically at Kevin. "Do something!"

Kevin seems more than happy to take the hint. He steps forward, brightest smile suddenly in place, and… OK, it is still scary how he can just do that. "Snap inspection," he tells the newcomer, in a clipped, cheery tone that very much matches his expression. "Strexcorp policy. I'm sure you know the drill."

"Uh… of course, but…" the scientist replies, looking half bewildered and half alarmed.

"What's your name, young man?" Kevin presses on, and yes, from the looks of things the scientist can't be far off Kevin's own age, but it reinforces the power-imbalance all the more.

"…Grant," says the scientist.

"Well, hello, Grant. I'm Kevin."

"I… I know…"

"Wonderful! In that case, this next part should be easy for you!"

Grant does not look convinced. He does, however, now look borderline-terrified, which – for all intents and purposes – is nearly as good. "…Ah… I don't mean to cause trouble, but… aren't you a dangerous revolutionary now?"

Kevin gestures not-at-all-idly with his knife. "Oh, you shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"I… I see," Grant concedes, before gesturing cautiously to the rest of the group. "And… what about them?"

"Them?" says Kevin, pleasantly, almost as if he's only just noticed they're there. "Don't worry about them. They're just observers. I'm the one you should be worried about."

This does not seem to help. It certainly doesn't help Carlos, who is now back to counting in base four again, in the vague hope of retaining some kind of focus, and of avoiding the fact that he's still more drawn by _this_ side of Kevin than he'd like to admit.

"OK," says Grant, quickly. "OK. I… what exactly do you want?"

"Is there anyone else here?" Kevin asks.

"Uhm… no, no, just me," Grant murmurs.

Kevin headtilts. "Now, Grant, I don't think that's true, is it? There are _two_ cars parked outside, after all. You're not lying to me, are you? I don't like it when people lie to me…"

…Never mind base four, just go straight into binary. And fast.

"…I… I… OK, OK, there's one other person here, but… but… she's not a threat to you, so you don't need to–"

"Oh, Grant, do you really think I'm looking to hurt you or your colleague?" Kevin asks. "Because I'm honestly not… unless you make trouble. You're not going to make trouble, are you?"

"No!" Grant squeaks. "No, I promise!"

"Good," Kevin purrs. "Good. Now. Where's your friend?"

"She's… she's just through there, in the auxiliary lab, going over… you know, things, so…"

"Why don't you give her a call?"

Grant the scientist pauses, takes a deep breath, and then opens the door he just came through. "Alima?" he says, voice raised a little. "Alima, could you come out here?"

"Hold on," comes the reply. "I'm just…"

"…Uh, quickly?"

"Grant, are you OK?"

"Sure, sure, just… come out here?"

The second scientist clearly takes the hint, appearing in the doorway after a moment: a woman, also in a labcoat, whose eyes widen as she sees that her colleague is most definitely not alone.

"Oh!" exclaims Alima. "Grant, who are all these people and why is Roderick with them? And his _double_? And… oh. _Oh_."

It's at this point that she notices Kevin, and clearly recognises him as well, voice going hollow as she adds, "…Smiling God, are you here to kill us?"

Kevin doesn't even flinch. "No," he replies. "But I do need you to do exactly as I tell you. Otherwise… I might have to re-evaluate."

Grant looks like he's going to pass out. Alima, on the other hand, just turns her stare on her _other_ colleague. "Roderick!" she exclaims. "What are you playing at?"

"I'm sorry, Alima, really, I am," Roderick insists. "But I… I've never liked Strex. I really haven't. And they're trying to take it down, so… so I'm helping."

"Yes, but… but helping _him?_ " Alima pushes, looking pointedly at Kevin. "Grant, you know what happened to Mr Piotrson…"

" _No one_ knows what happened to Mr Piotrson," Grant replies, very firmly. "And I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"I think that might be for the best," says Kevin, in the calm tones of one who knows _exactly_ what happened to Mr Piotrson.

Whoever he was.

Alima sighs. "What exactly do you want?"

"First," Kevin replies, "I want to know if there's anyone _else_ here. Grant said it was just the two of you… so this is your only chance to change your story without having to face… consequences."

"There's no one else!" Grant insists. "Just us!"

"Just you?" Kevin says to Alima.

She nods. "Just us."

"Good. Now: my companions and I need to do some work in the main lab and it's vital we aren't disturbed. So… where exactly is the nearest empty office?"

The two scientists sullenly point it out, and Kevin calmly leads them back down to it, checking the room before locking them in.

"Forgive the cliché, but you won't get away with this!" Alima calls out, once the door is shut and she can risk being a little more daring.

"We already have," Kevin replies, brightly, double-checking the lock and then walking back up to where the rest of the group is waiting for him. "That was bracing," he remarks, most likely to cover up how he's really feeling. "Well, Roderick, come along. Science time."

And – given that Kevin's tone of voice hasn't gone back to normal yet – Roderick is only too quick to comply, leading them up into the central lab.

Well. At least _this_ is a distraction from the thoughts that have been running through Carlos' mind for the last few minutes. The sandstorm lab. _The_ sandstorm lab. He's eager to explore it – what scientist wouldn't be? – but sensible enough not to touch anything just yet.

"I need to get to work," Roderick says, obviously focusing more as he snaps into a science-mindset. "Carlos, Frederick, you can help me, come on…"

"I'd better get started on the security systems," Steve adds. "Terminal?"

Roderick points. "Over there."

***

And they work. Well. Roderick works, and Carlos and Frederick help where they can. The process is simply too complex – and too physics-defying – to make complete sense this quickly, though Carlos finds himself understanding more of it than he would like.

Steve, meanwhile, sits at the computer terminal in the corner, rapidly tapping away at the keyboard. Cecil hovers at his side until Steve loses it and tells Cecil to go bother someone else, at which point Cecil wanders back over to keep an eye on Kevin, who is himself watching the door.

And, though the air is tense, everything seems to be going smoothly… until the sound of a ringing phone interrupts them all.

"…Oh no," Roderick breathes, looking up from what he's doing. "Oh _no_. That's the landline. Division Headquarters must be calling in."

"Why would they do that?" Carlos asks.

"They _wouldn't_ ," Roderick replies. "Not without provocation."

The ringing persists: ominous and threatening.

"…One of us should answer it," Frederick points out. "Otherwise they're going to realise something is amiss."

"I have a sneaking suspicion they already know," Kevin murmurs, with a dark look in the direction of the door.

The phone in question is sitting on the desk, next to Steve, still ringing away. "Oh, for the love of Pete…" he murmurs, picking up the receiver and pressing a button to click the call onto speaker. _"Hello?"_ he says, in a scarily good impression of Grant's voice.

Well. That had to come in handy sooner or later.

"Station Nineteen?" says the person on the other end. "This is Division Headquarters. We've picked up your alert signal. What's the situation?"

 _"Uh… no situation,"_ Steve insists, still mimicking Grant. _"Situation normal. Everything is under control and… productive. Very productive."_

"The alert in question was the silent alarm," comes the reply, full of suspicion. "And if you don't know who triggered it, the chances are you're the reason. State your employee number."

 _"OK… one second…"_ Steve murmurs, somehow managing to keep the voice up as he immediately starts typing away again. And, though the person on the other end of the line won't hear it, Carlos can make out Steve muttering – mostly to himself – "…why don't any of these scientists have last names..?"

"I need a response now," says the caller, firmly. "Your employee number is only thirteen digits long. _Everyone_ knows theirs off by heart."

_"Well, I'm not everyone now, am I?"_

"I'm activating the intruder alert immediately," says the caller, in a much brighter tone of voice. "Armed response teams will be on-site shortly. Have a pleasant evening."

And they hang up.

"There is simply no way this could possibly get any worse!" Steve exclaims in frustration.

The instant he speaks, a bright beam of black light suddenly blazes into existence from above, focused squarely on Roderick. "What's happening?!" the scientist says, frantically. "What did they do?!"

"Oh my," Cecil breathes. "Roderick… that light isn't caused by Strex. It's… the angels. Or, you know, it would be if they existed."

"What?!" Roderick squeaks. "But I'm not done! I still have things to calibrate!" He looks up, attempting to glower at the light. "Do you hear me? I'm busy!"

But the heavenly beam clearly has other ideas. It starts to draw Roderick upwards, making him elongate as he moves, almost like he's being pulled into a black hole very, very slowly. To begin with, Roderick looks positively horrified by it all, but then the emotion starts to fade, drifting and drifting until something much closer to serenity crosses his face.

"Don't worry," he says, in a voice that is both his own and not his own. "I…"

And Roderick vanishes, taking the heavenly light with him.

There is a short silence, broken when Frederick exclaims. "…Now what do we do?! The calibration isn't complete and Roderick was the only one who fully understood how all this insane Strex tech works!"

"We'll just have to try on our own," Carlos replies, doing his best to sound confident when – in fact – he's just as worried too. Why now? Why would the angels take Roderick now?

But it's easier said than done. Yes, Roderick explained some of this to them earlier in the day and yes, he's been talking them through bits of it as they worked, but the truth of the matter is that this kind of tech needs far, far more than half an afternoon by way of an introduction. The likelihood is that it needs at least several months. And maybe a degree in Creative Meteorology.

As Carlos and Frederick try to get the sandstorm generation process initialised, Cecil and Kevin watch in obvious worry. After several more minutes, Steve announces that he's ready to input the Management Board-level access codes and calls for silence, tapping away whilst Cecil moves to hover at his shoulder again.

For once, Steve doesn't object.

"Right," he says. "Now all I need to do is pass the voice-print. And that isn't going to be easy… but I've offset the vocal receivers so hopefully they'll register as minorly out of alignment, thus explaining away any variables in my voice as compared to Lauren's."

"There are _plenty_ of variables in your voice as compared to Lauren's," Cecil points out.

 _"Are there, Cecil?"_ Steve replies, in that scarily good impression of Lauren Mallard's voice. _"Are there?"_

"…Just unlock the security access, Steve," Cecil says.

Steve gives him a look, then turns to the vocal analyser. _"Authorise sandstorm activation process,"_ he says, still in Lauren's voice. _"Security code: alpha forty-nine, one-zero-one-nine-one-four-one-nine-three-zero-six-one-six."_

"Authorisation confirmed," an electronic voice responds. "Awaiting activation."

Steve sits back, hands behind his head, smile on his face. "Aaaaand that's how it's done," he says, tone normal again.

"Yes, Steve, we're all very impressed," Cecil replies, though he looks more relieved than anything else.

"So you should be," Steve tells him. "Well, Carlos, Frederick… it's all up to you." And he does, at least, manage to look entirely sympathetic – to say nothing of concerned.

"Help me bar the doors," Kevin now says. "The Strex security team will be here soon, and we need to be ready. We have to hold this room long enough to let Carlos and Frederick trigger the storm, or…"

"We'll get it done," Carlos insists, trying to reassure him – reassure all of them – even though deep down he's more worried than he can process. "Just keep those enforcers out."

"Oh, we'll keep them out," Kevin replies, tone darkening. "Don't you worry…"

And – without warning – he takes a step back and holds up his hands, immediately beginning the invocation to summon Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty. Impossible, infernal light blazes into existence, forming that encircled pentagram, as Kevin chants all the while: the long and complex incantation that ends with three shouted words and a burst of flame. And then – finally – his eight-foot, bat-winged demon appears in front of him, giving a low roar before glancing down at his summoner.

"You rang?" Azatothoth rumbles, idly.

"Yes," Kevin replies. "Long story short: science lab, important work, imminent attack by enforcers. Very bad."

"Well, well, you're a little on edge. Having a rough day?"

"You could say that."

"But we get to kill something soon?"

"You do. I have to stay here and make sure no one gets through the door."

Azatothoth folds his arms. "And I have to do all the heavy lifting because?"

Kevin folds _his_ arms. "Because I'm your summoner and I told you to. Also because you _enjoy_ unrestrained violence."

"…There is that," the demon concedes. "Fine. I still say it's a bit harsh making me do it all on my own…"

"But you don't have to!" Steve interrupts suddenly, expression brightening. And, before Cecil can do anything to stop him, _Steve_ has held out his hands, head back, eyes closed in concentration.

 _"Porta inferni aperta! Exeunt Bharaieogh!"_ Steve calls out. There's a single burst of red light… and there stands Bharaieogh the demon, staring over at him with bright amber eyes.

"…That's _it?_ " Kevin exclaims. "I have to do five full verses in _Linear-B_ and you only need _four words_ in _Latin?!_ "

Steve shrugs. "Some of us prefer substance over show," he replies, calmly, though with a slightly wary look at Azatothoth after he's spoken, in case the rather taller demon decides to take issue.

Azatothoth, for his part, merely keeps his arms folded and regards the newcomer with suspicion. "And you are?"

"I am Bharaieogh!" the shorter demon roars. "Bharaieogh, of the Seventh Infernal Plane!"

"And you're soul-bound to _Steve?_ "

"Hey!" Steve exclaims. "Don't say it like that!"

Azatothoth shrugs. "You just didn't strike me as the type."

"Yes, well… it's a long story, OK? One I can tell you _after_ we're done being attacked by a swarm of Strexcorp enforcers."

"Enemies!" Bharaieogh roars. "Will you let me fight them this time?"

And Steve smiles. "Of course. This time, I need you to. So we don't all die horribly."

"You don't have to be so graphic about it," Cecil says, looking alarmed.

"Do not fear, puny humans and Steve!" Bharaieogh exclaims. "I shall defend you from your enemies. I shall smite every last one of them!"

" _We_ ," insists Azatothoth, in what must surely be his pulling-rank voice. " _We_ shall smite every last one of them."

"…OK, fine," Bharaieogh concedes. "And who _are_ you, anyway?"

"Tell him, _tereta_ ," Azatothoth says to Kevin, looking wholly smug.

"This," says Kevin, gesturing, "is Merciless Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty, Seventeenth Adjunct to the Fourth Infernal Plane."

There's a very brief silence, during which Carlos finds himself wondering what will happen if the two demons don't get on. And also wondering how the world got so insane that he's worrying about the interpersonal relationships between two demons whilst trying to create a massive artificial sandstorm.

And hoping this does not ever become a typical Friday.

And then? Bharaieogh looks delighted. " _Awesome_ ," he rumbles, sounding suddenly more like a teenager than a six-foot-six demon from another plane of existence. "Tell me more, Adjunct, whilst we prepare to defend the puny humans and Steve from their foes."

"But go do it outside," Kevin insists, firmly. "I need to block this door, so go guard the main entrance. And resist the urge to kill the pair of scientists I've locked in one of the side offices. Do scare them if they manage to get out, though, because I'm confident all this is their fault."

"…Yes, Kevin," replies Azatothoth, in his long-suffering voice.

"Very good. Oh, and Azzie?"

"Hm?"

"Be nice to Bharaieogh. But if you _ever_ call me a 'puny human', there will quite literally be hell to pay."

"…Yes, Kevin," Azatothoth says again.

And, looking wholly unimpressed, he stomps out of the room with Bharaieogh trailing in his wake.

"…Is anyone else worried by that?" Cecil murmurs, staring after them.

"…Yes," Steve concedes, before they both go back to pretending they haven't just agreed on something else.

Seconds later, a soft rumble rises up in the distance, and Kevin's eyes darken. "Helicopters," he says. "They're coming. Help me with the door, quick."

And, as Kevin, Cecil and Steve shut the door and start trying to find ways to block it, Frederick turns to Carlos. "…We're not going to be done in time," he whispers.

"I know," Carlos whispers back. "But… we have to keep trying. We _have_ to. We can't let it all fall down here…"

Fear can be an excellent motivator. On the other hand, being so terrified that he can't think is not helpful at all.

"We're close," he murmurs. "We're so close. Look at these readings. But… we're missing something. Something Roderick didn't mention."

"I can't work out what, though," Frederick replies. "Merciful Planck, even _I_ think this tech is beyond sensible…"

Which is saying a lot.

On the other side of the lab, there is now a fairly impressive barricade of chairs and several tables blocking the door.

"It won't hold them off for long," Steve points out.

"I know," Kevin concedes. "But it's better than nothing. And hopefully Azzie and Barry… er, sorry, Bharaieogh… will prevent most of them even getting this far. If they break through, just… just stay behind me."

"Kevin…" Cecil starts out, voice full of confliction, but his double turns and puts a hand on his arm.

"Cecil. I'll die before I let them hurt you."

"I'd rather you didn't die at all!"

Somehow, Kevin manages a smile. "So would I."

"…Oh, stop being adorable…" Steve murmurs, though he's gone a little pink and there's no force to his tone.

And he's saved from Cecil's response to this when there's several matching thuds from outside, amidst the whir of helicopter blades.

"…They're here," Kevin says, voice hollow, drawing his knife as he speaks.

"We're still not done!" Carlos calls out. "This equipment makes no sense!"

"Just keep trying," Cecil replies. "If anyone can do this, you can."

But Carlos is not so sure. In fact, he's increasingly certain that the only person who can do this has recently ascended. And that is not helpful.

At this point, a roar cuts the air from down the corridor: a roar that is unmistakeably a very high-spirited demon. "Flee, puny mortals! Free from the combined might of Bharaieogh and Azatothoth the Adjunct!"

Well. At least _someone_ is having a reasonable evening. And, from the sudden shrieks of alarm, several other someones are about to have a very _un_ reasonable evening.

"…Just keep working, just keep working," Carlos finds himself murmuring. "Don't think about what the demons are doing…"

"…Wish I could go watch," Frederick remarks. "I bet it's really impressive."

Carlos gives him a flat look. "Are you _sure_ you're from Night Vale?"

"Of course. Born and raised."

"If your eyes weren't a dead giveaway, I'd say you and Roderick were switched at birth."

Frederick just shrugs. "Stranger things than that have happened around here. But if it means I don't have to ascend, I'm all for it. Although, if I _had_ ascended, I wouldn't be stuck here fighting tech that makes no sense, about to be murdered to death by whichever enforcers are skilled enough to get past the pair of demons guarding the door."

"Frederick?"

"Yes, Carlos?"

"Shush."

But he does have a point.

"I do wish all this didn't have to be so complicated, though," Frederick goes on, gesturing wildly at the equipment in front of him. "I mean, I like a challenge, but this is frankly ridiculous."

"Well, there's hardly just going to be a big button marked 'press here for giant sandstorm' now, is there?!" Carlos replies, going a little high-pitched.

They're interrupted as something – presumably some _one_ – crashes into the outside of the door, making the whole barricade shake.

"Oh, that's not good…" Cecil says. "That's the very epitome of not good."

"Seconded," Steve murmurs.

Another thud outside the door, and then someone banging on it. "We know you're in there!" a voice calls. "Surrender immediately or there will be consequences."

"Come in here and make us!" Kevin shouts back, and from the looks of things he's ready for a fight.

"Don't say you weren't warned!" the speaker replies, but is almost immediately cut off from saying anything else. It's hard to tell exactly why, but – judging by the scream – one of the demons has caught up with him.

Kevin gestures at the door, grinning. "Sure you don't want one, Cecil?"

"What, a demon? Masters of us all, no."

"You have to admit, though, they come in handy."

"I would prefer to be in situations that you _don't_ need a demon to solve!"

"…Desert Bluffs is probably not the best place for you, then…"

Renewed thudding at the door, accompanied by several incoherent yells and a roar that is almost certainly coming from Azatothoth. The whole barricade shakes again, more worryingly this time, and Carlos knows that – even with two demons on their side – they only have moments before they're overrun.

It can't end like this. Surely it isn't going to end like this?

"…We're going to die, we're going to die…" Carlos now starts murmuring, mostly on autopilot, as he keeps working.

"I… fear you may be right…" Frederick concurs, actual worry in his tone. "And I–"

But before Frederick can get another word out, the door to the lab bursts open, pushing back the barricade enough to let a pair of blood-spattered enforcers scramble through.

"Whose demon is that?!" the first one shrieks.

"Which one?" says Kevin, in the pleasant tone of voice he uses as a prelude to physical violence.

"The angry one with the giant wings!"

"Ah. That would be Azatothoth. He's mine."

"Good," says the enforcer, wiping blood – which seems not to be his own – off his forehead. "Then you die first."

Kevin brandishes his knife. "Come get me."

The enforcer makes to leap at him, and promptly goes crashing to the floor when Steve – seemingly from out of nowhere – hits him with a chair.

Kevin, Cecil and the remaining enforcer all stare in surprise.

"Who's next?!" Steve exclaims, looking even more ready for a fight than Kevin does.

"It's always the quiet ones," Kevin remarks, grinning.

"Steve is not quiet!" Cecil replies.

This exchange gets them a flat look from the remaining enforcer, albeit one accompanied by a slight glance at the door, as if he's wondering why his colleagues aren't bursting through to back him up.

"Which of you wants to die first?"

"…Oh, for the love of Planck…" Frederick murmurs, pulling out his blowdart pipe and promptly shooting the enforcer in the shoulder. The man glowers at him in shock before quickly collapsing next to his already-unconscious associate.

Kevin, Cecil and Steve all now turn and stare over at Frederick. "What?" he asks, with a shrug. "A scientist is always armed. It's the first thing a scientist is!"

"It's _fine_ , Frederick," Carlos points out, midway between exasperated and horrified. "A scientist is always _fine_."

Frederick merely shrugs again. "Well, sure, but if I'm armed, I'm fine," he replies.

"…Are you _certain_ you weren't switched at birth..?" Carlos murmurs, going back to fighting the equipment.

Almost at once, the barricade bursts inwards again, and this time… this time rather more than two enforcers come pouring in.

Moments. That's how long they've got left. Moments. And, given how many orange-tied men and women have started getting through the door, even if Carlos or Frederick somehow manages to set off the sandstorm… Carlos knows none of them is going to make it out of this room alive.

He looks over at the others. Kevin is taking on a pair of enforcers, already streaked with blood but seeming thoroughly unfazed by it. And off to the side, Steve is knocking back another enforcer with that chair; Cecil apparently realising Steve has the right idea and opting to do the same. And though the remnants of the barricade are definitely slowing the enforcers down… it isn't enough.

A strange sensation settles over Carlos: a mixture of sadness and contentment. Sadness at the thought of death, but contentment at knowing it was in pursuit of something worth dying for.

But then… he feels something else. Something intangible and inexplicable, yet undeniable all the same: a sense of purpose, chasing through the room. A sense of _destiny_.

The same feeling he had right before the Battle of Night Vale. A certainty that has no source and cannot be explained, but a certainty nonetheless.

And then? Then there is light: bright, vibrant, burning black light, which fills the whole lab, making the enforcers back away in alarm, hands over their eyes. Seconds later, a figure blazes into existence beside Carlos and Frederick: a tall, glowing being with great, sweeping wings and a labcoat that shines like the moon.

Carlos gasps. " _Roderick?!_ "

The angel turns to look at him. "Erika," he… they… say in correction. "My name is Erika." And then… then a little smile, of the sort Carlos has never seen in the other angels he's met. "But you can call me… the Science Angel."

Roderick-Erika throws out both arms, and a shockwave of energy races away in all directions, felling the enforcers the instant it touches them, yet passing over the three trying to fend them off as though nothing but a cold wind. And then the angel turns to the closest equipment panel, tapping two buttons and removing the protective cover on a third.

Carlos is sure that button wasn't there before. Sure. Because, right beneath it, is a label:

 _'Press here for giant sandstorm'_.

"…Funny," Frederick manages, halfway between awed and terrified. "Really funny."

"I knew you'd approve," says Roderick-Erika, hitting the button. Then there's a second burst of light, the sound of an alarm… and the angel is gone.

Silence descends. Carlos blinks around at the room, trying to work out if he dares believe what his eyes are telling him – and, indeed, it's a moment before he can.

All the enforcers are down, and the passageway beyond the barricade is quiet. Cecil and Steve lower the chairs they've been using for self-defence, staring at each other, then at Kevin, and then over at Carlos and Frederick.

"…Did we just survive that?" Cecil manages, tone rather higher than usual.

"…Yeah, I think so," Steve replies.

"'Cause… I didn't expect to."

"Me neither."

"We have got to stop agreeing on things…"

"Agreed."

"Steve!"

But Steve evidently decides the best response to this is to hug his brother-in-law. Hard. And yes, Cecil does bat him off, but not nearly as fast as he usually would.

"Did it work?" Kevin asks, looking over at Carlos, his battle-high having blended to obvious shock at not being dead.

Carlos checks the readouts in front of him. "…Yes," he says, still hardly daring to believe it. "Yes. The sandstorm generation has begun. According to this, it should have covered most of the city within an hour. Oh… sorry… most of _both_ cities."

" _Both?_ " Cecil exclaims. "It's going to hit Night Vale too?"

Carlos nods. "Yes. However this tech works… it makes the sandstorm spread in both directions from the desert between the two towns. Which… OK, I know meteorology is hardly a science, but that clearly makes no sense because the prevailing winds would…"

He trails off. "…I should just accept it, yes?"

Cecil nods. "Yes. Probably for the best."

It's getting easier and easier to do so. Precisely what this means, Carlos prefers not to wonder. "We should be getting out of here," he says, instead. "That storm will be on top of us fairly quickly, and we need to stay ahead of it or it will bring the helicopter down."

"Good point," Kevin agrees. "Come on."

They scramble through the remnants of the barricade to find Azatothoth and Bharaieogh waiting in the corridor beyond.

"Mortals!" Bharaieogh exclaims. "You live!"

"Yes, Bharaieogh, we live," Steve replies, patting his demon on the arm.

"Nice work, you two," Kevin tells them. "Had fun?"

"You have no idea!" Bharaieogh says. "I got to fight alongside an _adjunct_. The guys are _never_ going to believe me when I tell them!"

"Awwww, Azzie, you've got a fanboy!" Kevin remarks, smirking.

"Oh, shush," Azatothoth retorts, though he looks like he's enjoying himself more than he'll admit.

"You two should probably disappear now," Steve says.

Bharaieogh nods. "As you wish. But call on me as soon as you have more mortals for me to smite!"

And he vanishes in a burst of red smoke.

Azatothoth, meanwhile, folds his arms and looks pointedly at Kevin who – after a moment – takes the hint. "Yes, yes, you should go too," he concedes.

His demon gives a little bow. "Resist the urge to end the world without summoning me again first," he rumbles, with a grin, and then vanishes as well in a blaze of infernal flame.

"…We should check those two scientists are still alive," Carlos now says.

Kevin's expression darkens. "Why? They're obviously the ones who triggered the silent alarm and set all those enforcers on us."

"Well, yes, but… but they're _fellow scientists_ ," Carlos points out, trying to justify it to himself as much as anyone else.

Kevin shakes his head. "Oh, fine," he concedes, and then grins. "As if I could ever refuse you."

He paces down to the locked office and opens it, standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. "Anyone still alive in here?"

Two heads appear from beneath the central desk, staring warily over at him.

"You see, Carlos, they're fine," Kevin says, gesturing. "Totally not dead."

"What was all that shrieking?!" Grant asks, tone very high-pitched.

Kevin gives him a flat look. "That was what happens when you call the enforcers on me," he replies. "Just be thankful my scientist boyfriend is not in favour of me showing you the usual _consequences_ of such."

"We promise we won't do it again!" Alima insists.

"See that you don't. Also, there's about to be a very large sandstorm and – coincidentally – a very large battle. So you might want to stay here. For your own safety."

"Point taken!" Grant squeaks.

"Wonderful," says Kevin, brightly. And he shuts the door again, though leaves it unlocked this time. "Well," he goes on, turning to the other four. "I suppose we'd better go check our pilots aren't dead. Naomi won't be pleased with me if she finds out I let two of her remaining loyal enforcers get killed."

They step outside, where there are now three yellow helicopters sitting empty on the dusty ground. There are also quite a few bodies, which bear all the signs of having gotten too close to a demon in life.

Carlos tries very hard not to look.

They head over to their own helicopter, to find the two enforcer-pilots holed up inside, knives drawn, looking thoroughly unhappy – albeit relieved when they see that their passengers have (mostly) come back intact.

"You're alive!" the first enforcer says, her eyes wide with surprise. "We thought you were dead for sure after all those other guys turned up. Plus, there was a great deal of screaming. And then a burst of energy floored the lot of them."

"That was an angel," replies Kevin, calmly. "Roderick ascended."

"I… oh, well, that's…" the second enforcer tries, her own expression conflicted, as if she isn't sure how to respond to this.

"He seemed fine about it in the end," Frederick attempts to reassure her, far too brightly. "Plus, he did kind of save all our lives, so… we'll go with it being good."

"We need to move fast now, though," Kevin goes on. "There's about to be a massive sandstorm, and we don't want to be in the air when it hits."

"Agreed," the first enforcer says. "Everyone in. Where to?"

"Just head in the direction of what was the Bloodstone Plaza," Kevin replies. "I think we'll know precisely where we need to be when we see it."

Moments later they're lifting off, leaving the desert lab behind them once more. As they rise up, Carlos can see it in the distance: a vast sandstorm, building on the horizon, racing towards the city; a storm that will soon engulf them all.

And as they get closer to their destination, it's clear the streets below are teeming with people, all gathering in the roads leading up to the wide-open square where the Bloodstone once stood, and all slowly forming into two lines, facing each other.

This is it, Carlos knows. This is it.

The Battle of Desert Bluffs is about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Linear-B translation notes:
> 
> Tereta - 'master of ceremonies'
> 
> Latin translation notes:
> 
> Porta inferni aperta - 'infernal gate open'
> 
> Exeunt - 'come forth'
> 
> \----------  
> Aaaaand... cliffhanger, again (again)! The likelihood is that the next time I post chapters, it will be the final batch (but you never know!)
> 
> I wrote the bulk of this chapter whilst staying in Birmingham, prior to seeing the live show there - and let me just say it was one of the most incredible nights of my life, hands down. There aren't words for how much fun I had, both in the show itself and before it, meeting so many awesome fellow fans whilst we all indulged in that most sacred of British traditions: forming an orderly queue! (And whilst some of us indulged in that less sacred of traditions: converting people to the ways of Strexcorp. Which was also fun!)
> 
> Coming Up Next In Chiralityverse: There's a massive battle on the streets of Desert Bluffs, though it's a much more personal battle that will decide the fate of the town, as the three who are key go up against the one reigning in deadly light. But the journey doesn't end there...
> 
> EDIT: And now - _finally_ \- there's more!


	23. Take Back The City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm back! I know I've been a while. Real life has been a little tricky in the last few months, but I'm here now, and I bring with me the final five chapters! For those of you still with me, I hope you enjoy... I certainly have! :-)

_I love this city tonight_   
_I love this city always_   
_It bears its teeth like a light_   
_And spits me out after days_   
_But we're all gluttons for it_   
_We know it's wrong and it's right_   
_For every time it's been hit_   
_Take back the city tonight_

~ Snow Patrol: _'Take Back The City'_

***

In the end, the enforcer-pilots have to land the helicopter on the flat roof of a small office building, leaving Carlos, Cecil, Kevin, Steve and Frederick to race down four flights of stairs and out towards the Bloodstone Plaza.

The Bloodstone itself may be gone, but the square still looks ominous in its own right, and even more so for being the place where two large groups of people have formed: Strexcorp enforcers and soul-bound employees on one side, and the revolutionaries on the other.

They're outnumbered. That much was obvious enough from above and is just as unavoidable now. But there are nevertheless a lot more people here than Carlos expected. Clearly, those among the group who have been rallying allies have been busy.

"There you are!" Naomi exclaims, as she spots them heading towards where she's standing, with Darla at her side, at the front of the amassed revolutionaries. And if other people look relieved to see them all arriving… well, Carlos tries not to read too much into it. "The winds are already picking up. Were you successful?"

"Yes," Kevin tells her. "Our scientists did it. Although… Roderick did sort of ascend in the process."

"I suppose we shouldn't be surprised," Naomi replies. "Not after what those other two angels said. But right now… Steve, we need you with the rest of the infinite-seven."

Steve takes a deep breath. "OK. This part again. I…"

He looks at them – Cecil especially – with a complicated expression. "Just… don't die, OK?"

"We'll do our best, Steve," says Cecil, very dryly, though taking a step back at the same time as if concerned Steve might be about to try hugging him again.

"Well… good," Steve replies. "That's good. And… you know… thanks for getting me involved in all this. Just don't tell Caitlin I said that."

"You come back alive and I won't have to," Cecil murmurs, before pretending he didn't.

Steve gives him a hopeful little look, then nods. "Right. Well. Time to go save the world again…"

And he heads off along the front of the group a short way, to where the other six are waiting for him: John and James, Josie and Josephine, Larry and Lawrence. They're standing in a row: those from Night Vale on the right, and those from Desert Bluffs on the left, with a space for Steve in the centre. He moves into it, and then the infinite-seven join hands, connecting themselves in that single line.

Carlos feels it at once: a ripple of some indescribable energy that races across the plaza; intangible and inexplicable, yet undeniable all the same. A soul-deep sense of strength, of certainty, of… _community_ , shared now by those who have lived their entire lives on the fringes of society in Desert Bluffs, and a group of Night Valeans who came here to risk their own safety for people long seen as the enemy.

"This is it!" comes a shout from off to the left: Tamika Flynn, leaping up onto a wall with her double at her side; both of them standing at the head of a swarm of children and teenagers, all armed with books and slingshots and expressions that ought to send any sane adult running for cover.

"This is our moment!" Linnea Calfuray calls out, echoing her double's strong, certain tone – and, as she does, Carlos finds himself looking down towards where the infinite-seven stand and seeing… yes. Yes. Josie and Josephine, with mysterious, wistful smiles on their faces.

There are a lot of circles closing here. A lot more than it seemed at first.

_"It was the best of times!"_ Tamika declares.

_"It was the worst of times!"_ Linnea continues.

_"It was the age of similarity!"_

_"It was the age of difference!"_

_"It was the epoch of war!"_

_"It was the epoch of freedom!"_

_"It _is_ the season of light!"_

_"It _is_ the season of storms!"_

_"Rise up, Night Vale!"_

_"Rise up, Desert Bluffs!"_

And then, the two young doubles look at each other before concluding, in unison, _"We have everything before us! We will prevail!"_

And oh, but they're good at that. The swarm of youngsters raise cheers in support of their leaders, and many of the adults do too. They're not the only ones with something to say, though, for – as they've been speaking – three figures have been walking down the front of the line: Dana Cardinal, Pamela Winchell, and Trish Hidge.

"Our young allies are quite right!" Dana calls out. "And though we may be two cities, we're one metropolitan area. And we don't have to be so different."

"Look across this square and see the ones who want to keep us apart," Pamela goes on, in her best press-conference voice. "Look at them. See them for what they are: _interlopers!_ Interlopers, in what could otherwise be the peaceful co-existence of two great sister-cities."

"Believe!" Trish continues. "Believe in the things that are real. Those whom we face this with. The places we face this for. This will be our day… so deny right here, right now, that it could ever be anything else!"

"And hey," comes a fourth voice: unmistakeably the Faceless Old Woman, unseen but obviously with them too, "if all else fails, just remember: death is inevitable in the end. So you might as well do it with style, rather than in some unmemorable bed in a dimly-lit room, decades from now."

Well… the sentiment is still there, albeit beneath the Faceless Old Woman's usual delivery method. And Dana, proving – once again – why she's _already_ an excellent mayor, finds the perfect follow-up to this.

"Live with style. Live for what's real. Live for what matters. A storm is coming… but we will weather it. A battle is upon is… but we will prevail. Stand together!"

As renewed cheers go up all along the line, Hiram McDaniels – who is perched on the side of a building – lowers his gold head to the front of the crowd. And though no one can see the Faceless Old Woman, it's clear he has a rough idea as to where she is, because it's his former campaign rival that he speaks to, behind the roar of the amassed revolutionaries.

"…We can't very well burn her now, can we?" Hiram remarks, sounding a little put-out. "I mean, listen to that…"

For now, the Night Valean contingent of the revolutionaries – small though it is – have taken up a chant of their own (and one that a number of their Desert Bluffs allies join in with). _"Dana! Dana!"_ they're calling, over and over, hands in the air.

"…Well, there goes any hope of turning them against her," the Faceless Old Woman concurs. "Though, to be fair, I think we may have been doomed the moment Hidden Gorge decided to throw us both over in favour of… well, a _former community radio intern_. Who… did sort of save Night Vale. A bit. Hiram, this is tedious."

"You don't have to tell me," Hiram sighs. "Then again, I'm not the one helping her rally the rag-tag revolutionaries."

"No, but you are preparing to set their enemies on fire," the Faceless Old Woman retorts, dryly.

There's an odd silence between the two, although the cheering hasn't stopped.

"…Maybe we should, y'know, give up on the revenge thing," Hiram suggests. "If she survives, I mean."

"Seriously?" says the Faceless Old Woman, in a voice that would surely be accompanied by an eyeroll, if she had eyes to roll. "I knew you'd crack first. Though I bet your other heads won't be so generous. Green in particular. He was looking forward to eating Dana."

"Leave my green head to me," Hiram replies. "Just… you know. Don't die in this crazy thing."

"Hiram, I can't die. I'm the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home. I don't do dying."

"You also don't do 'secret'; at least not since you decided to run for mayor!"

"Oh… shush."

Carlos doesn't hear any more of the conversation, however, because at that point Naomi puts one hand on Cecil's shoulder and the other on Kevin's, before saying, "…You two should talk to them all as well."

"Us?" says Cecil, sounding surprised.

"Of course," Naomi replies. "You're the key to all this, remember?"

"Only because people keep telling us we are," Kevin reminds her.

"Well, maybe so, but if they believe it enough, it becomes true. And you're the voices of both our towns. These people are used to hearing you. They _need_ to hear you."

Cecil and Kevin exchange a look, and then they turn to Carlos.

All he has to do is smile and headtilt to the nearby wall… and both of them are leaping onto it in seconds, standing side by side to address the crowd, who finally fall silent as their identical radio hosts step up.

Carlos is confident the two of them haven't prepared anything for this eventuality. But, the second they begin to speak – in jaw-dropping unison – it's clear they know precisely what to say all the same.

_"We do not look around. We do not look inside. We do not sleep. Our god is not a smiling god. And_ we _are everything!"_

"People of both cities, the moment is upon us!" Kevin continues, alone. "Soon, the false-sun overhead will be blotted out by a sandstorm of our creation, and those who draw strength from that unearthly light will do so no longer."

"This is our time!" Cecil echoes, and in a way time has never felt more real than it does right now (but it still isn't). "And, as a wise man once said: the destination will be worth it, even though the road is hard. And we all know what that destination must be: the goal we have been chasing since the start… to take down Strex!"

"Take down Strex!" Kevin calls out.

"Take down Strex!" Carlos finds himself shouting, feeling that indescribable, undeniable sense of destiny at his back again.

"Take down Strex!" both Naomi and Darla declare, in unison.

And then, suddenly, the whole amassed revolutionary force, from five-headed dragon to teenage militiaperson, are all shouting the same thing, hands in the air; a thunderous call that rings off the buildings and reaches defiantly towards the merciless sky.

_"Take down Strex! Take down Strex!"_

It's almost overwhelming to listen to. To participate in. And Carlos feels almost dizzy with it as he hears a new shout cut the air: a shout in seven voices.

_"Forward!"_

And as the infinite-seven speak, a ripple of static bursts out through the amassed crowd, accompanied by a sensation Carlos remembers from the Battle of Night Vale. Seconds later, a dome of energy forms over the whole square, unhindered by the buildings surrounding it: a dome of stillness. And as it does, Carlos understands: this might once again protect them from helicopters, but it has a far more critical purpose here.

It will protect them from the sandstorm.

The revolutionaries charge. Opposite them, most of the Strex employees charge as well, launching into the battle… but, at the back of the Strex crowd, seven figures erupt into view. They're wearing the obligatory black suits and orange ties, but they're clearly too important to be mere enforcers.

Middle-managers, then. They've all leapt up onto a wall of their own, hands in the air, dark eyes glittering unnaturally in the light of the false-sun. "We're ready for you this time!" the man at the centre of the line calls out. "You think you can stop us with your hokey prophetic tricks? Prepare to see what _real_ power looks like!"

The Strex-seven join hands and begin to chant, the air going strangely cold as they do. Some kind of energy starts to spiral around them, although it doesn't look like any kind of summoning that Carlos has ever seen…

…and, OK, when did his life get so insane that he could even have cause to _think_ something like that?

"What are they doing?" he says to Kevin, as the two broadcasters climb down from the wall. "Is it a summoning?"

"Looks like a channelling to me," Kevin replies.

"…Channelling?" Cecil repeats.

"Yeah. When you call on an extra-planar's power but not the extra-planar itself," Kevin explains. "Bad practice, in my opinion. You can't do it through a soul-bind so it has to be a free invocation and, at least half of the time, the extra-planar in question will take offence and manifest. And if there's no soul-bind…"

"…Are you telling us they might very well set an _unbound_ demon loose in the middle of all this?" Cecil exclaims, looking understandably horrified.

Kevin gives an all-too-calm shrug. "They might. But honestly? If it's unbound, it's just as likely to attack _them_ as it is to attack us. Although…" His expression goes a little more concerned, and a lot more confused. "…Why _aren't_ they summoning something? They're all fairly high-ranking middle-managers. They should have powerful soul-binds of their own, and I know for a fact that at least three of them are practiced in advanced group summonings."

"…Like that thing Naomi and her friends invoked over at Sunbeam Ridge?"

"H'ygragagogoth?" Kevin replies, again far too easily. "Yes. Like that."

"…They can't," comes Naomi's voice, as she and Darla hurry over to where the three of them are standing. "I just tried to summon Ozhen'ipleth, and I can't get through."

" _What?!_ " Kevin exclaims, looking suddenly horrified. "One moment…"

He takes a step back, holds up his hands, and starts to chant… but nothing happens. No ominous infernal drumbeat. No blazing pentagram. No swirl of light. Nothing. He falls silent after a moment, dropping his hands, expression going from distraught to enraged in seconds.

" _What did she do?_ " he says, in a tone of voice so alarming that it doesn't even make Carlos think inappropriate thoughts. "What did Lauren _do?!_ "

"Whatever it is, I doubt she did it alone," Naomi replies, moving closer to him and putting a hand on his arm. "I've heard rumours about this being possible, but I've never seen it done."

"Seen what done?" Carlos asks.

"My dear sister-in-law has blocked the planar gateways," Darla explains. "It's why those middle-managers are channelling something instead of invoking it, because channelling is the most they can accomplish. They may be talking big about being 'ready' this time, but actually? They're on the back foot too. Maybe more so, because _they_ draw their power from the false-sun, and our sandstorm is rapidly blotting it out."

"So… no one can summon anything?"

Darla nods. "Exactly."

"But doesn't that hurt Strex as much as it hurts us?" Cecil asks.

"On the surface, yes," Naomi replies. "But not if all of this is just buying time."

"Buying time?" Carlos repeats.

"…For whatever Lauren is _really_ doing," Kevin reasons, and then he turns straight to Naomi. "We have to get up there. To the top of HQ. We have to get up there and stop her."

Naomi's expression goes suddenly complicated. "Kevin… we both know how this ends. How it _has_ to end. Lauren has to die. The rest of the Management Board have to die. But… a human won't be able to kill them. Not on this plane. It will have to be someone with enough demon blood. It will have to be _me_."

"I'm not leaving you to do this alone," Kevin insists. "And… and when the moment finally comes… you need someone there as backup. Not to help with the fighting, not really, but… with the other thing. Because, when push comes to shove, Naomi… if you'd been able to kill your sister, you would have done it years ago. That's why you need me there. That's why your family has _always_ needed me there. To do what you couldn't. To get my hands bloody."

For a moment, Naomi looks like she's going to argue. Going to refuse. Maybe even contemplating shouting him down. But then… then she nods slightly. "…I know," she says, softly. "I know. I used to think about it. Used to wonder if I should just drag you away from the city, sort out your head, and then go after my father with you. Sometimes I wish I had. But… it changes nothing now. No matter how much you might _want_ to solve my problem for me… you can't. You're human. Lauren isn't. You won't be able to kill her without some kind of extra-planar weapon, which we don't have."

Somehow, Kevin keeps his expression completely level as he reaches beneath his jacket, and pulls out that shard of the Bloodstone. The instant he does, Carlos can hear it again… that echoing, haunting song… but now it sounds almost _excited_ , as if it's urging him on.

"…Kevin," says Naomi, in a quiet and deadly voice. "Why do you have a piece of the Bloodstone?"

"Why do you think?" Kevin replies. "It was a powerful extra-planar object. Powerful enough to kill a demon. And you can get as mad as you want with me, but it won't change the fact that we _both_ know this is the only way."

"…You're lucky I like you," Naomi hisses, before turning her glare on Cecil and Carlos. "And how long have _you two_ known about this?"

"Since this afternoon," Carlos replies. "And we both told him it was a bad idea. But… it's the only one we've got, isn't it?"

Naomi glowers for a moment and then sighs, expression mellowing a little. Darla pats her on the arm. "Nay, they're right. Crazy, but right. And if you'd thought of it yourself, you'd be defending it too."

This gets her something of a look, and another soft sigh. "…Oh, you _are_ right, damn you," Naomi mutters. "Fine. Fine. But when this is over, that thing goes. I am not having it wreck your life any longer."

Kevin nods. "Agreed. Assuming we survive the night."

"You'd better," Naomi retorts. "Otherwise I'll kill you myself."

There's an awkward pause.

"…We need to get to Strex HQ," Carlos reminds them, carefully.

"But how?" Cecil asks, gesturing to the battle raging on just ahead of them, and to the dome of energy providing protection from the sandstorm that, in mere moments, seems to have landed right on top of the plaza. "The streets are swarmed and we'll never make it in the helicopter."

At this point, they're interrupted by a heavy thud nearby, and several brightly-coloured dragon heads swing in close to them. "Now," says Hiram McDaniels, "leaving aside any other things I may have recently overheard, it seems to me like you lot are in a bit of a bind."

"That's putting it mildly!" his green head roars. "You've launched your attack in the wrong place. This whole endeavour is doomed to failure!"

"Burn everything!" violet squeaks. "Just burn it all and be done!"

"Now, now, guys, calm down," Hiram insists. "Yes, there are some planning difficulties, but this ain't as bad as it looks."

"What exactly are you suggesting?" Naomi asks, carefully.

Hiram's gold head gives a little tilt. "What else? You need to get to Strex HQ, yes? That big, blocky, nasty tower in the very centre of town? The one that don't quite make sense?"

"Yes," Naomi replies.

"Well," Hiram goes on, at every bit a politician's pace, "seems to me that what you need is a little help. Say… a five-headed dragon who is _hardly_ bothered by a little thing like a sandstorm. A five-headed dragon who could fly you up to the top of that tower without breaking a sweat. 'Course, dragons _don't_ sweat on account of how we're reptiles, but… you take my point?"

Darla folds her arms. "So, what, we're supposed to climb on your back and let you carry us up there?"

"Unacceptable!" Hiram's green head roars, shooting a jet of flame into the air. "We are not a pack animal!"

"We must concur," his blue head chips in. "We are a proud reptilian being. We are not here for tiny humans to ride upon."

"Absolutely, absolutely," Hiram insists, in a placatory tone. "And I'm not suggesting anything like that. _But_ , if the tiny humans happened to be inside something, say… a vehicle, maybe… that we happened to fling at the HQ skyscraper as a _projectile_ , and said humans survived the crash and got into the tower that way… well, that'd _hardly_ impact upon our honour, would it?"

His green, violet and blue heads all appear to consider this for a moment, whilst his grey head continues to look thoroughly depressed by the whole affair.

"…It would be acceptable," green rumbles. "So long as there was plenty of fire-breathing, to assist in rending these hateful orange-clad creatures from the Earth."

"Yes, yes!" violet concurs. "Rending and fire and death!"

Hiram turns his gold head back to Naomi, with a rather smug look in his eyes. "So… you like my plan? Or you want to take your chances on the streets?"

The five of them exchange glances. Carlos, certainly, can't quite believe they're even considering something so insane.

But they are, of course. And they're more than considering it.

"…We should get to the van," Naomi says to Kevin. "We'll be better protected in there, for when…"

"…for when we're thrown at a skyscraper by a five-headed dragon?" Kevin completes, looking somewhat unconvinced. "I guess so."

"Don't you even _try_ to leave me behind, Naomi Hartley!" Darla exclaims. "No way do you get to go after Lauren without me. If nothing else, I've waited _years_ for this!"

"…All right," Naomi replies. "Just don't die, OK, love? Just…"

And Naomi grabs hold of Darla and kisses her, and it's really rather adorable, in a terrifying-half-demon-and-her-necromancer-wife sort of way. But Naomi isn't exactly big on public displays of affection, so it speaks volumes.

She's scared. And Naomi Hartley scared is downright terrifying.

"You're not leaving us behind, either," Cecil insists. "If Kevin goes, we go."

"Cecil… there's a good chance we're not going to survive this," Kevin says, turning to his double. "And I'd much rather you and Carlos were safe. So… so I know you'll be OK even if I'm not."

Cecil reaches out with both hands and grabs hold of Kevin, tugging him in close. "You are not leaving us behind," he repeats, very firmly. "I love you. Carlos loves you. And we didn't go through this so you could get yourself killed over some sense of guilt. We're going up there with you, and all of us are coming back."

Kevin looks stunned. "…All right," he says, softly, and Carlos can only hope that this is the man finally accepting that death is not inevitable. "All right."

Cecil pulls his double in closer, hugging him tight, and Carlos steps in too, wrapping both arms around Kevin from behind.

He loves them. Both of them. So much. And no matter how terrifying all of this is… he's still doing it. There's no way he'd _not_ do it.

"…Well," says Hiram, with what is probably supposed to be some sort of polite cough, "if you're all done being quite _ridiculously_ adorable, reckon it might be prudent to make a move."

"You're right," Naomi agrees. "Come on. Let's go."

***

With the insane plan decided on, they make their way back to where Naomi's van is parked. It's outside the protective shield created by the infinite-seven, which means they have to race beyond it, into the sandstorm.

It isn't a pleasant experience. The storm is strong, raging all around them; the air coarse and abrasive. And though they shield their faces as best they can with arms and jackets, it's obvious they wouldn't be able to travel more than a few hundred feet like this.

But the storm _is_ blocking out the false-sun, and somehow that makes it all feel less bad. Just not having that unearthly light beating down on them is a relief in its own right, even with the sandstorm to contend with instead. And the storm somehow feels oddly appropriate, in a way Carlos can't quite pin down and yet can't quite deny all the same.

They eventually make it to the van: Naomi yanking the rear door open to let them all in before slamming it shut again, and at least they're sheltered in here. The storm roars on beyond the metal walls, making the whole vehicle rock, although it's nothing compared to what's about to happen…

Carlos tries not to think about it. On account of how insane it is.

"Take these," Naomi says, quickly, pulling open a metal case stashed in the back of the van and handing them a slender vial each: a slender vial containing a small amount of concentrated, trans-dimensional orange juice. "If you need an escape route… just drink it, and you'll be out of here in seconds."

"Out of here, but trapped in the Otherworld Desert!" Cecil points out, looking alarmed.

"Better there than dead," Naomi reminds him, and none of them can argue with that.

Even so. Carlos still doesn't want to be stuck on another plane of existence.

They have barely a moment to pocket the vials before the whole van shudders; something sharp seeming to drop on top of it, scraping down the sides… and, seconds later, dragon claws pierce right through the metal.

"Hold tight!" they hear Hiram McDaniels call, above the roar of the storm.

Then the van is lifted into the air. Carlos has to concentrate hard not to scream, even though screaming would be a very valid response to the current situation. Mercifully, he can't see outside from where he is – the only window is up front, and he'd have to stand to see through it, and there is _no way_ he's going to risk attempting that – but it doesn't stop the experience being thoroughly, thoroughly unpleasant.

Perhaps not as bad as where they're going. Although that doesn't exactly help either.

This is insane. _Insane_. He's clinging to the inside of a van that's being carried through a sandstorm by a five-headed dragon. Even by the current standards of his life, _this is insane_.

"I'm not enjoying this!" Cecil manages, clearly thinking along the same lines.

"Really? I am!" Darla replies, looking like she wants to hang out the window, whooping with delight, whilst everyone else curls into a rather more sensible defensive ball.

Any further discussion on the matter is interrupted as, from above, they hear several of Hiram's heads roaring and at least one shooting fire at something.

"…How long does it take to get from the Bloodstone Plaza to Strex HQ?" Carlos asks, tone a little high-pitched.

"When you're travelling by five-headed dragon?" Naomi replies. "Not long…"

Somewhat appropriately, this is the moment that Hiram chooses to fling the van forwards, with another roar and spout of flame. The change in momentum is almost as horrible as the knowledge that they've just been _flung at a building_ , though Carlos doesn't have long to worry about it because, seconds later, the van smashes through glass and brick, tipping onto its side in a burst of noise and debris as it comes – eventually – to a halt.

It's a long moment before Carlos dares open his eyes, and even then it's only because he wants to make sure everyone else is all right. He's sprawled in a tangle on the side of the van – which is now the floor – feeling somewhat battered but otherwise intact.

"Oh, I did not enjoy that," Naomi murmurs from the far corner. "Is everyone still alive?"

"…Next time, we're taking a cab," Kevin replies, as both he and Cecil scramble up from where they've fallen together, brushing broken glass off each other.

"Awww, Kevin, where's your sense of fun?" Darla exclaims, looking much happier about the whole situation than seems reasonable.

He stares at her. "Darla, if _I_ think that wasn't enjoyable, what does that tell you?"

"…That you're going soft in your old age?"

"I am not going soft. And I'm not old."

"…We should probably get out of the van," Carlos interjects, carefully – because neither Kevin nor Darla is someone you want to interrupt, especially when they're on a roll.

This is easier said than done, however, given that the van is now on its side and half-sticking out of a skyscraper. Once Naomi has vetoed Darla's plan to "Just try to rock it over and over until it tips again," they manage to get the door – which is now the ceiling – open and clamber up through it, one at a time.

"That was bracing," Kevin remarks, drawing his knife as they take in their surroundings. The van has crashed through the window of a wide, open-plan office on a high floor. It's currently – mercifully – empty of Strex employees, though the low ringing of an alarm in the distance suggests it might not remain that way for long.

"We need to move quickly," Naomi says, her own weapon drawn. "There should be a stairwell close by and we can't be more than a few floors away from the top. Everyone… stay behind me. Lauren and the other remaining three from the Management Board will be up there, and they likely know we're coming now."

All Carlos can do is nod. There's a lot more he wants to say. A lot more he needs to say. But… they don't have time.

With Naomi in the lead, they hurry out into the central hallway beyond the office doors. It, too, is empty, though the alarms are louder and there are weird symbols glowing deep red along the tops of the walls.

"…Oh, that's a bad sign," Naomi murmurs. "A very bad sign. Come on, quick."

She leads them through a heavy door and into a stairwell, racing further upwards. Despite the mortal peril, Carlos' mind suddenly fills with images of them having to climb fifty flights of stairs, but mercifully it ends up being only three, and they're still moving fast as they race out into another hallway.

No. Not a hallway. A reception office. A reception office with a broad, curved desk at its centre, set with a computer terminal. And though no one is currently sitting behind it, Carlos recognises it at once. This is the desk belonging to Abigail the receptionist, and beyond it are the double-doors leading into Lauren Mallard's office.

This is – more or less – where it all started, almost two weeks ago. And this – one way or another – is where it's going to end.

It's hard to know exactly what they're about to face, but – judging by the deep orange light flickering through the gaps, and the low, inescapable rumbling – it cannot be good.

"Last chance to turn back," Kevin says, softly, looking at Cecil and Carlos as they all step up to the door.

"No," Cecil replies. "We won't leave you. Not now, not ever."

This is it. This is it.

Naomi reaches up, and pushes the door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tamika and Linnea's speech is a heavily-edited extract from the opening of _A Tale of Two Cities_ (see what I did there?)
> 
> As for the whole rallying sequence... my callbacks to the audience chants from _Old Oak Doors_ were wholly and utterly deliberate, due to being far too awesome not to use! I still get goosebumps when I'm listening to that episode and the crowd starts shouting Dana's name.


	24. Edge of the Earth

_All along the journey_   
_You leave the past behind_   
_I had a dream that we could fly_   
_Over distant oceans, the fallen mountains_   
_The great wide open of the desert sky_   
_And where I'll be is where you find me_   
_Meet me here at the edge of the earth_

~ Switchfoot: _'The Edge of the Earth'_

***

Beyond the doors lies a scene that defies description. Defies reason. Defies _science_. And, for a moment, all Carlos can do is stare in horror at what they're finally faced with.

The centre of the floor is marked with a huge, triangular emblem. It's the Strexcorp logo, but it's something more, too: a twisted symbol surrounded by writing in a language Carlos can't identify. All of it is glowing a deep, deadly orange – like the symbols on the walls downstairs – and flickering as though it is composed of cracks in reality, with something bright and terrible beyond.

But this is hardly the worst part. Stretching from a mirrored version of the emblem glowing on the ceiling, to the one on the floor, is a twisting column of light and energy, rippling and swirling like a rip in the very fabric of reality itself. This is the source of the rumbling, and up close it feels much like the song of the Bloodstone did: intrusive and all-pervading and sinister, but alluring at the same time. And there's something more beyond it too – not in the room but elsewhere – something shadowed and red and ominous; something that makes the air taste of copper.

Carlos only has a moment to take all this in, though, because – as expected – there are four people in the room. Three of them are standing in a line, hands held out and joined, dressed in long, hooded robes: black, with vivid orange trim. Their faces are hidden, but it's not much of a stretch to guess that they're the surviving members of the original Management Board.

And standing in front of them, arms folded, with a rather wicked smirk on her face, is Lauren Mallard.

"Well, well," she says, "if it isn't my dear little sister and her twisted necromancer. Such a delight to see the two of you again. You know how I just _adore_ family reunions. And you brought our mutual friends with you! How lovely."

"This ridiculous venture of yours is over, Lauren," Naomi declares, taking a step forward. "And I don't know which part is the _most_ insane: the part where you invoked the contracts, the part where you're drawing power from what is clearly a portal to the First Infernal Plane – which _must_ be costing you, given that you've blocked all the other planar gateways – or the part where you _ever_ thought you could live up to Dad."

Lauren narrows her eyes. "I _am_ living up to Dad, Naomi," she replies, tone still alarmingly bright, if laced with icy cold. "More than that, I've _surpassed_ him. I've established a soul-bind with the Smiling God."

" _What?!_ " Kevin exclaims. "You can't do that. You'll let it through!"

"Oh, Kevin, of course I'll let it through," Lauren tells him. "I _want_ to let it through. I couldn't have done what I've done in the last few days without the help of the Smiling God… and in return, I will finally complete my father's work and allow the greatest being on all the planes to manifest right here in Desert Bluffs. You can already see echoes of its power up in the sky. Imagine what it will be like when the Smiling God is truly _here_. Endless light. Endless warmth. Endless power. And it will all be because of me."

"You'll end the world, you genocidal maniac!" Darla exclaims. "No one in their right mind would let that _thing_ fully onto this plane!"

Lauren's expression goes cold. "My father would. He almost did."

"Not whilst he was soul-bound to it!"

"Enough!" Lauren declares, waving a dismissive hand in Darla's direction. "I didn't let you all get up here to waste time making idle chit-chat. I let you up here so I could have the satisfaction of killing you myself."

"Oh, cute," Naomi retorts, tone as cold as her sister's. "You're a physical coward, Lauren. You talk big, but if you actually went up against us in combat, you wouldn't last five minutes."

"I beg to differ," Lauren replies. "With the power at my disposal now, I could outlast all of you. Not that some of you would be much of a challenge…"

She stares rather pointedly at Cecil and Carlos, which – unsurprisingly – gets a reaction from Kevin. "You come near either of my boyfriends and you won't live to regret it," he says, brandishing his knife in her direction.

"Kevin, Kevin, you might want to re-think the tough talk," Lauren chides. "You might even want to re-think the merits of your acts of wanton corporate treason, but it's too late for that. Even if you knifed all four of your companions to death right here in front of me and then swore a blood oath to the Smiling God, I still wouldn't let you live."

"You leave Kevin alone," Cecil cuts in, tone suddenly protective. "He's risked _everything_ for this town. Something I don't think you could ever truly understand."

"What you call 'risking everything', I still call 'corporate treason', Cecil," Lauren points out. "And in Strexcorp, there's no higher crime."

" _Enough_ ," Naomi interjects. "This ends now. We're closing that portal before _anything_ can manifest through it, First Infernal Plane or otherwise. And then? Then, sister mine, you and I are going to have a good old-fashioned fight to the death."

"Well, if that's your plan, Naomi… it kinda sucks," Lauren replies, still somehow managing to keep up that sing-song tone. Maybe it's hubris. Maybe she has some other trick up her sleeve. Carlos is not at all sure he wants to know.

"How so?"

Lauren sighs, as if annoyed by having to explain herself (despite the fact that Carlos is confident she's actually enjoying it). "This is a two-way portal to the First Infernal Plane. And I've opened it using powers granted to me by my new soul-bind with the Smiling God… and the help of the remaining _loyal_ members of the Management Board, of course. It isn't just some pesky little rip in space, and you can't just _open and close it_ on a whim, like some silly old oak door. Even Dad would have had a hard time opening this on his own."

"He had a hard time opening a silly old oak door on his own," Kevin cuts in, very pointedly, which makes Lauren glower at him.

"Only because _you_ took advantage of his fondness for you and stole his key," she throws back.

Kevin shrugs. "It doesn't change the fact, though."

Lauren glowers more, but with a triumphant edge to her expression all the same. "Well, _that_ fact doesn't change _this_ fact," she goes on. "You won't be able to close this portal. And, for that matter, you won't be able to kill me, either. Naomi might, it's true… but, even if she does, my three allies will wipe the rest of you out, and the Smiling God will still manifest. So… you might want to consider surrendering. I can make your deaths significantly less unpleasant if you do. Well… _some_ of your deaths. But it's the best offer you're going to get, so I'd take it if I was you."

"But you aren't me, Lauren," Naomi answers. "You're all talk and no action. Me… I'm the opposite. Sometimes… I wish you _were_ more like me. We could have run this company together. Made it something _good_."

"Awww, are you getting sentimental?" Lauren asks, with a smirk. "What about the hellfire and damnation you're supposedly going to rain down on me?"

"I'll do what I have to," Naomi replies… though there's a flicker of something in her voice, and Carlos finds himself wondering if the woman really is so ready to kill her own sister.

"But you _won't_ have to," Kevin cuts in suddenly, taking a step forward, having evidently reached a similar conclusion to Carlos. "That's why you have me."

Lauren claps a hand over her heart. "Oh, Kevin, you're really going to do this? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. This way, you get to be all noble for your boyfriends _and_ your bestie. And Darla, of course. Whatever role _she_ supposedly fulfils in your little love-fest."

"It's called _friendship_ , Lauren," Kevin responds, tone now very calm and level, and Carlos knows the other man is slipping into the mindset where he can… well. Do what he's clearly threatening to do.

"Whatever," Lauren sighs, with a shrug. "You're human and I – as you no doubt know by now – am half-demon. You might _want_ to kill me, but you can't."

"Yes I can," Kevin tells her. "Yes… I _can_."

He slips his knife away and reaches into his jacket, drawing out that glowing shard of the Bloodstone. It seems brighter now, almost as if it knows what's going on and _likes_ it. Lauren, for her part, looks suitably alarmed for a long second before she gets her expression in check again.

"Wow," she breathes, " _really?_ You go to all that trouble to destroy the Bloodstone and then you have the _audacity_ to turn up here with a piece of it?"

"Yes," Kevin replies, easily. "I spent days stuck with this thing, enduring the knowledge that it wasn't completely gone, for precisely this moment. So I could stand here, in front of you, with a weapon capable of killing someone with demon blood. So I could do what your family has always needed me to do."

"Get in the way?" Lauren retorts.

" _Fix your problems_ ," Kevin replies, pointedly.

Now Lauren's expression darkens considerably. "Is that so? Well, then, if this is how you want to die… so be it."

She holds out her arms, as – behind her – the three hooded survivors from the Management Board raise theirs higher. The air turns cold, becoming more electric, and even the light radiating from the false-sun, visible in the sky beyond the window, seems to grow brighter.

Carlos grips Cecil's hand, trying desperately to think of a way to stop all this and drawing nothing but a blank. Kevin, however, merely looks back at them over his shoulder. "I love you," he says, softly, and Carlos barely has a chance to process the words before Kevin has darted forward, not towards Lauren but towards the portal. And though it seems impossible – like so many things around here – he slashes the Bloodstone shard across the very fabric of the portal itself.

The instant he does, chaos erupts. The portal begins to flicker violently – a great gash of light drawn across it like a wound – twisting and turning with ever-growing violence, and the rumbling noise it emits becomes significantly more intense and erratic. At the same time, Naomi shouts, "Darla! Now!" and the two of them launch at the three hooded figures, pulling their line apart and starting to fight them, silver blades flashing through the air.

Outside in the sky, the false-sun begins to flicker. Lauren looks back at it, then turns her gaze on Kevin. "What have you _done?_ " she demands.

"What I had to do," he replies, still so very calm, and it's only now that Carlos realises Kevin's air of serenity isn't readiness for battle but _acceptance_. Acceptance of what? Of this? Or..?

Lauren draws her own knife, though it's clear she isn't pleased about having to do so. "Very well," she declares, hiding the displeasure under the coldest tone Carlos has ever heard from her. "Then I hope the three of you said suitably saccharine goodbyes to each other before you came in here… because even if I die, I'm taking at least one of you with me."

There's a lot Carlos could say about Lauren right now, most of it not exactly complimentary. But, despite a certain element of hubris, the woman is by no means an idiot. Her bright, not-from-around-here eyes linger on Kevin for a moment… and then she turns her attention squarely to Carlos, lunging at him. He has little more than a second to process the danger before Kevin steps in the way, the Bloodstone shard raised to block Lauren's knife in mid-swing.

"Carlos!" Cecil exclaims in horror, reaching out to pull him back, even as Lauren and Kevin are now grappling with each other, weapons locked together, and…

…the song. The song is suddenly there, and suddenly deafening, as the remaining piece of the Bloodstone flares in obvious _excitement_. It _wants_ this. Wants them to fight. Wants people to die; wants the world to come crashing down, just as _its_ world came crashing down mere days ago.

The sound rings in Carlos' mind, as intense as the night they supposedly ended it, only now… now there isn't a flicker of the whispers of angels. Oh no. All he can hear is that cracked, broken roaring, blazing through the air; blood and churning and _anguish_ in the ceaseless dark.

"We have to stop this!" Carlos calls to Cecil, who is trying to shield him from Lauren. "They're all going to end up dead if we don't!"

"You're going to end up dead anyway!" Lauren retorts, pushing Kevin off and shooting a quick glower at the closest – and least occupied – of the three hooded managers. "Do I have to do everything myself?" she demands, in something of a hiss.

The hooded manager takes the hint, leaving their two colleagues to deal with Naomi and Darla and darting over to help Lauren. And… Carlos can't take it any longer. He can't. The song in his head is horrifying and Kevin is trying to fight off two people at once and…

It's at this moment that Cecil apparently loses it too, launching forward and grabbing hold of the hooded manager's arm just in time to prevent that knife getting past Kevin's defences. But in the confusion Lauren _does_ manage to get a blow in, and Carlos cries out in horror as Kevin tumbles back, hitting the floor roughly though managing to keep hold of that glowing crystal shard. Not even pausing to consider the consequences, Carlos drops down beside him, and it takes Cecil managing to block Lauren by pushing the hooded manager between them to prevent it all ending right there.

"Kevin!" Carlos gasps. "Are you..?"

"…I'm all right," Kevin manages. There's blood on his hand, and blood on his side, but the wound clearly isn't deep. "She just grazed me. And she's going to pay…"

"We can't win like this!" Carlos insists, as they both scramble to their feet. "It's that _thing_ , Kevin. It's in your head! In all our heads! And we…"

He looks over at the portal: that opening, that _doorway_ to another world.

_…you can't just open and close it on a whim, like some silly old oak door…_

And though the thought is insane by the general standards of science and reality, it's practically _normal_ for round here: it's a door. So what if it isn't old and oak this time?

It's still a door.

_Three still key forever more._

In Night Vale, they had to open one. So it stands to reason that, in Desert Bluffs… they're here to _close_ one.

"We have to shut that portal, Kevin!" Carlos insists. "Trust me, we have to!"

Before Kevin can even reply, he has no choice but to leap between Cecil and the hooded manager, pushing his double back just in time and locking blades with whoever is under that cloak. There's a clash of weapons, a blaze of red light, and then… then Kevin gets a blow in.

And it's a good one. The hooded manager howls in shock, staggering backwards, and…

…Carlos doesn't look away this time. Maybe the terrible song is the reason. Maybe… maybe it's something else.

He doesn't look away. He sees the moment it happens: the moment the hooded manager staggers again and goes down, and, though it's hard to tell amidst all that black fabric, Carlos knows the person beneath it is dead.

" _Oh no you don't!_ " Lauren shrieks, sounding half-annoyed and half-alarmed, though she's cut off from saying anything more – likely a renewed bout of threats, judging by her expression – as there are more howls from the far side of the room. Carlos turns just in time to see the other two hooded managers drop to the floor, under the matching onslaught from Naomi and Darla.

Both women look rather high, though he suspects the song _isn't_ to blame in their case. And not just because Naomi can't hear it.

What happens next does so very, very quickly, though in Carlos' mind it all seems to slow down, as if time is somehow admitting its own non-existence. Lauren manages to grab hold of Cecil, putting her blade to his throat, just as Kevin tries to dart forward to attack her. He freezes in mid-step, clearly horrified by the sight in front of him, clearly convinced he's messed this up, and it would be agony to watch if Carlos didn't suddenly _understand_.

But, mercifully, it's only another second before that same understanding dawns in Kevin's eyes. He looks from Lauren and Cecil to the portal, and then glances at the Bloodstone shard in his hand.

And then? He smiles, and turns, moving before anyone has the chance to speak, or threaten, or _worse_ , stepping closer to the portal and stabbing the Bloodstone shard squarely into it. And though that portal is composed of swirling energy, Carlos can _see_ the crystal pushing in, as if into something physical.

As if to the true enemy in the room.

There's a sound like a thousand discordant voices screaming in not-quite unison, and a burst of red light that pushes at the back of Carlos' eyes with a familiar, unwelcome insistence. The Bloodstone shard blazes almost blindingly bright and then goes dark, at exactly the same moment as the roaring song comes to an abrupt halt. And then, the shard slips from Kevin's hand and through the portal, out of sight, out of reach.

For a second, everything is quiet and still, before a second burst of energy sends them all flying back, knocking Cecil out of Lauren's grip, and slamming Carlos into the nearest pillar.

"…What have you–?" Lauren starts, but she's cut off by a third burst of energy which somehow collapses back in on itself… and suddenly they're all scrambling to hold on as the portal starts to suck everything in. The room's few loose fittings go flying, disappearing through the portal in flashes of light, followed closely by the cloaked bodies of the three hooded managers.

The force from the portal is getting stronger, and Carlos knows his grip on the pillar he's holding onto won't last. On the far side of the huge office, he can see Naomi and Darla managing to open the door leading into Lauren's Room of Questioning, and he can only hope that – if they do – they'll be safe beyond it.

"You've ruined everything!" Lauren howls, clinging on to the edge of her – evidently bolted-down – desk. "Everything! There are no words for how cross I am!"

"It's over, Lauren!" Kevin declares, also gripping hold of the desk. "You lost!"

"I'm still taking you with me!"

And Carlos can only watch in horror as Lauren starts trying to knock Kevin into the portal, and… and even if she _doesn't_ , how long can they hold on like this?

They can't. They have only one option left, and he doesn't want to say it. But, as the pull from the portal grows ever-stronger, Carlos realises he has no choice.

"The OJ!" he shouts. "Drink the OJ!"

"Carlos, you're a genius!" Cecil calls out, from where he's clinging to a second pillar. And he doesn't hesitate to risk letting go with one hand, so he can reach into his pocket for the vial of James Paulson's concentrated trans-dimensional orange juice he's carrying.

Carlos does the same, but Kevin is still trying to knock Lauren into the portal.

It all happens at once. The pull from the portal intensifies still further. Kevin and Lauren lose their grip at the same moment and fall – sideways – towards that angry gap in reality. Cecil cries out in horror, loses _his_ grip on the pillar, and somehow manages to down the vial of OJ in midair.

He flickers and vanishes before he even gets to the portal. An instant later, Kevin and Lauren seem to fall through it… though, as they do, Carlos is sure – or maybe he just hopes – he catches a flash of orange in Kevin's hand, and a flicker in his physical form right before he and the howling Strexcorp CEO vanish from sight.

Then the pillar cracks, Carlos downs his own vial, reality flickers…

…and he's falling. Falling sideways. Falling sideways towards red light…

…and then he's falling sideways across open, sunlit desert. It only lasts a few seconds before gravity reasserts, and he drops roughly to the ground, landing in a tangle of limbs and skidding somewhat painfully across the sand.

For several moments, Carlos doesn't dare move. He just lies where he's fallen, trying not to breathe in the dust, and concentrating on the realisation that he is – probably – still alive. Then, slowly, he clambers to his feet, brushing himself down and staring around at where he now is: a wide, seemingly endless desert, with a bright, hot sun overhead and – some way off – a huge mountain towering upwards out of the otherwise flat plains.

A mountain with a blinking red light atop it.

The Otherworld Desert. He's in the Otherworld Desert.

And he's alone.

"Hello?" he calls out, in desperate hope, but he gets no reply. All he can hear is his own voice somehow echoing in the impossible expanse of that impossible place.

Where are the others? Carlos still isn't sure if Kevin drank his vial of OJ in time, but he's certain Cecil did, and there's no sign of him. There's nothing; nothing but flat desert stretching in every direction, and the distant mountain pointing upwards to a benign but blazing sun.

" _Hello?_ " he calls again, though even as he does he knows there won't be a reply. And there isn't. The echoes of his voice fade out once more, and Carlos is left in silence.

For a long, long moment, all he feels is panic: not for himself but for his boyfriends. Why aren't they here? Why hasn't Cecil appeared with him? What if Kevin didn't drink that vial in time? _What if he never sees them again?_

It's such a terrible thought that any sense of concern for himself never quite filters through. He's vaguely aware he _ought_ to be worried for himself too – he is, after all, now lost somewhere in the Otherworld Desert – but the thoughts never quite actualise.

Eventually, realising that standing like this will get him nowhere, Carlos takes a deep breath and tries to focus. So far, this is a problem he can't solve, so he needs to turn it into one he _can_ solve.

There has to be a way out of this desert. He got in, so he can get out… just not using the same method. And if there _is_ a way, the best place to start looking for it is at the one obvious landmark: the mountain. The mountain with the blinking red light atop it; a red light he knows is itself atop a lighthouse. So right now, his best option is to walk towards that mountain and climb it and hope that – at some point along the way – he finds the answer he's looking for. Plus, this works as a double-solution (the best kind), because if Cecil and Kevin are elsewhere in this desert, they will likely reach the same conclusion.

That's where they can meet. He's sure of it. If they're here… that's where they can meet.

A solution is wonderful for soothing the mind, even if it's an unproven one.

Carlos starts walking. High overhead, the sun beats down and, though it's hot, he can feel how _normal_ it is, too. How unlike the false-sun over Desert Bluffs it is. And that's strangely soothing as well, despite it being the sun shining over an otherworldly landscape; a sun that might not even be his own.

The desert is unshakeably weird. As he walks, across what look like flat, sandy plains, Carlos soon finds himself encountering outcrops of rock: some small, and some stretching high above him. This in itself would not be unusual, save for the fact that – from a distance – he can't see them. They somehow appear in the blink of an eye, almost as if they've popped into reality, and if he was less observant, he might think they'd somehow always been there.

But he knows they haven't. And though this defies more laws of physics and nature and common sense than Carlos likes to think about, it also gives him cause for hope. Just because he can't see things, it doesn't mean they're not there. And that means _other_ things – other _people_ – could be there too; unseen, waiting to appear.

He wishes they'd hurry up, though. The isolation is crushing.

Eventually, Carlos finds himself walking in the shadowed space between two ridges of rock that – like all the others – are just _there_ when he gets close to them. It's a little cooler in the shade, which he's grateful for, but a little more ominous too. Out in the open desert, he can at least see that there's nothing else around. In here… he can't be sure. And if he'd had a choice, he might well have avoided it, but it's very difficult to avoid a geological feature that doesn't appear until he's practically on top of it.

So he keeps going.

The air is so still, meaning there's almost no sound at all: no whistling of breeze about the rocks, no lifting of branches on the sparse, rough bushes. Nothing. Nothing but the sound of his footfalls, over and over: rhythmic, like the beat of his heart.

And then there's something else: the sound of movement that is not his own. Instinct makes panic rise long before hope can follow, and there's only alarm in Carlos' mind as he turns quickly around to look behind him.

"…Carlos?!"

" _Cecil!_ "

It's him. It's Cecil, emerging from another path between the rocks that joins Carlos' own. The instant his mind processes what's going on, Carlos closes the distance between the two of them and they collapse into a crushingly tight hug, both holding on as firmly as they can. The joy and the relief are so overwhelming that, for a moment, Carlos can't let go; can't do anything beyond press in as close as possible, feeling the warmth of the other man, the touch of his hands, the beat of his heart.

"Are you OK?" Cecil asks, finally, without letting go even slightly.

"Yes," Carlos manages. "Yes. Other than a rather rough landing, I got here fine."

They pull back enough to rest their foreheads together, though it lasts only a minute before Cecil presses in to kiss him, and it feels so wonderful that Carlos just gives in to the sensation, letting the need and the relief and the love fill him up.

Eventually, Cecil gently breaks the kiss and meets his eyes. "You're sure you're OK?" he whispers. "Never mind all this; after what happened in Strex HQ..?"

"I'm OK," Carlos insists. "I'm not going to claim I enjoyed it, but… I think we won. I mean… it looked like we were winning. Assuming that portal hasn't destroyed the world… oh dear…"

Maybe it's best he doesn't think about it.

"What about Kevin?" Cecil now asks. "Did… did he..?"

"I don't know," Carlos replies, gripping Cecil's hands tight. "The last I saw of him, he and Lauren were falling towards the portal. I… I _think_ he had his OJ vial out, but… but I can't be sure."

I can only hope.

"We have to keep looking for him," Cecil says, expression resolute. "We have to stay strong, and be confident he made it here too, and… keep looking."

Carlos nods. "You're right. I was working on the assumption that all of us would head towards the mountain, because it's the one obvious landmark."

"Me too," Cecil agrees. "Even though it shouldn't be there because mountains don't exist. And I don't like thinking about it for too long."

"Never mind thinking about it, it looks like we're going to have to _climb_ it," Carlos points out.

Cecil looks alarmed. "…Is that even possible?"

"In this place, I have no idea," Carlos admits. "But we'll find out soon enough."

"All right," Cecil says. "If that's what you think we need to do, then that's what we'll do. I trust you. We just have to hope that Kevin will go there too."

"Yes," Carlos agrees. "Yes."

We just have to hope that he's here at all.

***

They keep going. It feels much easier now that Cecil is here with him, and the two men stay close together as they walk onwards, eventually emerging from the weirdly shadowed valley and heading out onto the open plains once more.

"This place really is weird," Carlos remarks. "Did you find that rock features and suchlike would just _appear_ as you were walking?"

Cecil nods. "Yes. It's been a long time since I've seen that happen."

"Wait, you've seen it _before?_ "

"Yeah, back in Night Vale, about… oh, must be at least ten years ago, now," Cecil tells him, calmly. "It lasted nearly a week. If you were more than about fifty feet from something, you couldn't see it, but you _could_ see all the way to the horizon."

"That must have been… awkward."

" _Very_ awkward. There were a lot more car accidents, for one thing, and a fair few people were admitted to hospital suffering from extreme existential crises."

"What stopped it?"

Cecil gives a little shrug. "It just went away on its own. You know how Night Vale is."

Carlos has to admit that he does, although things like this still surprise him.

They walk for a long time. Geological features come and go at their own whim, but everything else is just flat, open desert, on and on and on forever. Eventually, the sun starts to sink lower; the sky gradually darkening from blue to indigo, laced with vibrant orange, heralding the slow onset of night.

They're close, now. They're close to the mountain, and that's good. But there's still no sign of Kevin, and that's bad.

_What if he isn't here? What if he's trapped on the First Infernal Plane with Lauren Mallard? What if… what if something even worse?_

"We still have time to find him," Cecil whispers, as if he knows what Carlos is thinking. Probably because he's thinking the same thing himself.

"I know," Carlos replies. And they do. But they haven't.

Another large rock formation pops into existence between them and the mountain beyond. By now, they're both so used to this happening that they don't even comment, and simply continue forwards, moving ever on. The terrain rapidly becomes much more rocky; steep spires reaching high above them on either side, and the ground itself seems to be starting to slope upwards, as if this was the true base of the mountain.

Aside from the incline, it looks a lot like the place where he found Cecil, and Carlos dares to hope that there's some relevance in this. That Kevin might be somewhere close by. But they walk and they walk, and still there's nothing, and it's just as Carlos starts wondering what they'll do if they _can't_ find him that reality, perhaps, takes pity on them all.

"There!" Cecil whispers, pointing.

And he's right. Up ahead of them, at the top of a rocky ridge, is a single figure, silhouetted against the glow of the orange-and-indigo sky: an unmoving figure, facing away from them. At this distance all Carlos can do is hope, but once they get closer it's clear that the person is indeed Kevin. He's standing still, staring out at the sunset, with his hands behind his back and his knife clasped in his left. And it's obvious by the way he drops his head a little that he's heard them approaching, although he doesn't turn.

It's hard to know what to think. Finding him is a relief Carlos can't put into words, but something clearly isn't right. Both he and Cecil halt a short way off, glancing at each other.

"…You found me, then," Kevin says, and it isn't a question.

"Yes," Carlos replies, clambering a little closer up the rocky incline. "We've been walking for hours. Are you all right?"

"I made it here fine," Kevin tells them, which is an answer and also not. "I fell through the portal to the First Infernal Plane, but I was only there a few seconds before the OJ kicked in and pulled me out. And then… I was here. Alone."

"We both started off the same way," Cecil says, softly. "It was some time before Carlos and I found each other, and we've been looking for you ever since."

"I thought I might have missed you," Kevin replies, and his voice is cracking a little now. "I thought…"

"But you didn't," Carlos interjects. "We're _here_. Kevin… please… tell us what's wrong…"

He needs to know. He needs to know badly. The relief at having finally found the man is being overshadowed by fear as to what he isn't telling them, and it isn't a good feeling at all.

"…Nothing's wrong," Kevin whispers. "Quite the opposite, in fact…"

As Carlos draws close, Kevin turns to meet his eyes at last, and now Carlos understands.

Something isn't wrong. Something is _right_ , and it's so right that Kevin doesn't know how to process it. He looks like he's welling up; like he's having to concentrate not to lose his composure, but beneath it all is a hope and a _relief_ that shines like the sun.

"Desert Bluffs is free," he whispers, softly. "I don't know how I know it… I just do. I can feel it, right at my core, as deep and certain as anything I've ever known. It's over. It's all over. _Desert Bluffs is free_."

"Then why do you sound so sad?" Cecil asks, moving to stand closer to Kevin on his other side.

Kevin looks away from them both, staring out at the setting sun again. "Because… because I don't know if there's a place for me there anymore. If I…"

"Kevin," Cecil interjects, softly, stepping closer still; close enough that he can gently take the knife from his double's hand and slip it back into its sheath, which makes Kevin's breath catch. "If Desert Bluffs is saved, then you played an essential role in saving it. And… whatever you once did… everyone has forgiven you. It's time you forgave yourself."

Before the man can hesitate again, they both move in; Carlos pulling Kevin in close, and Cecil stepping in behind him, arms wrapped around his double. And – suddenly, finally, gloriously – the world seems to drop back into place. They're here. They're _all_ here. They're all here, and they hold on tightly, no one moving or speaking for what seems like an age.

And every last flicker of worry seems to drift away in the face of this: in the face of the knowledge that they're all together, all OK. That none of them is alone.

That none of them will ever have to be alone.

Eventually, they step back from the embrace, hands lingering on each other as they do. Kevin still seems to be in shock, and he doesn't resist when Cecil gently turns him so they're face to face, before gripping his hands, pulling them in and kissing his knuckles, and then jumping a little. "You were injured during the battle," he says in remembrance, hands immediately moving to his double's side. "Are you..?"

Kevin smiles. "I think this place fixes people," he whispers.

And, from the look of things, he's right. There isn't even a gash in his shirt anymore and – when he lifts it – they can both see that his side is unmarked.

"…That's incredible," Carlos replies. "I… I mean, seriously, _twice?_ "

"I know," Kevin concedes. "It wasn't nearly as bad this time, but even so…"

It's still a relief. A massive relief. There's a lot of that going around right now.

"It healed pretty rapidly after I got here," Kevin goes on, looking out at the horizon again. "Once it did… I guess I spent a lot of time listening."

"Listening?" Cecil repeats.

"Yes," his double replies.

"To what?"

Kevin smiles. "It's gone," he says, by way of answer. "It's really gone. The song of the Bloodstone… is no more."

They stand close for a moment, all just listening. Listening to the most welcome silence in existence. And it really is wonderful, to know that it's gone. To know that they're finally free of that song forever.

"What made you change your mind?" Carlos asks, finally. "About that Bloodstone shard, I mean. You… well, you said you were going to take on Lauren with it, but then…"

"I guess… I realised I didn't have to," Kevin answers, after a pause. "I figured that the shard would be powerful enough to close the portal… because, I mean, that's something you learn in _elementary_ planar studies… but more than that… I realised I didn't have to fight her. I realised I didn't have to be the person Lauren and her father had made me. I realised… I could be the person the two of _you_ made me instead."

It's hard to know what to say to this. They all hug very tightly again, for a long moment.

"I'm glad you did," Carlos whispers at last.

Eventually, lingeringly, they step back, turning their eyes to the mountain once more.

"I think it's time we found a way home," Cecil says.

"Is that even possible?" Kevin asks. "I mean… Dana was trapped here for months, and she only got back because we opened the unopening door. And it's gone now."

"I know," Carlos agrees. "But there must be an alternative. There _must_ , and… I'm sure this mountain and that lighthouse are the key."

"I thought _we_ were the key," Cecil says, with a little grin.

"Maybe we still are," Carlos replies. "Either way… we need to climb this mountain."

As one, they look up at it, towering over them: a great spire of rock and height and awe, with the sun setting off to one side.

"It's going to be dark soon," Kevin points out.

Carlos nods. "Very true."

"There could be who-knows-what lurking on the path up there," Kevin goes on.

"Also true," Carlos agrees.

"But that's why we have you," Cecil says to Kevin, with an extremely distracting grin. "Well… _one_ reason, at least."

Kevin returns the look. "Touché," he answers, and – just to be safe (probably) – draws his knife again. "All right, then. Follow me."

And, united at last, the three men begin to climb the mountain.


	25. A Sky Full of Stars

_'Cause in a sky, 'cause in a sky full of stars_  
 _I think I saw you_

~ Coldplay: _'A Sky Full of Stars'_

***

"This is taking longer than I hoped," Carlos manages, some time later.

They're high up the mountain now, with the – seemingly – flat desert plains far below them. Overhead, the sun has long since set, and the sky is now a swathe of dark void, scattered with thousands of glittering stars: glittering, impossible stars laid out in unfamiliar patterns. And if he'd been alone, Carlos can't help thinking those stars might have been truly alarming to stare up at, instead of merely intriguing. Perhaps even hopeful.

It doesn't change the fact that he's tired, though. They've been climbing for what seems like hours, following a steep and rocky path that spirals part-way around the mountain, heading towards its summit… and the intermittent red glow of the lighthouse that periodically cuts the blackness.

"Well… mountains aren't real," Cecil reasons. "So I guess it can be as tall as it wants."

The trouble is, this statement is more logical than you might think when applied to the single mountain at the centre of an otherworldly desert. The place certainly defies science and reason more than Carlos would like.

"We must be getting close, though," Kevin adds, with a hopeful edge to his tone. He's long since put his knife away, after it became evident that the only danger on this path was the risk of collapsing from exhaustion.

"You know Dana climbed up here?" Cecil says, pausing a second. "She tried to tell me about it at the time, during one of my broadcasts, but somehow I couldn't hear her, and it was only when I played back the tapes that I realised what had happened. But she did."

"And did she sound out of breath when she got to the top?" Carlos asks, a little pointedly.

"…No," Cecil replies.

"She does have inexplicable superhuman powers, though," Kevin interjects. "Or… did. Or… sometimes does. Or… you know, something. And… merciless Azatothoth, why am I so tired? I go jogging! And walk places whenever possible! And engage in fairly regular hand-to-hand combat!"

Cecil laughs. "Feeling your age, are you?"

"I am precisely as old as you, Cecil, and you know it."

"…Not to stir things up, but _I'm_ two years younger than the pair of you…" Carlos can't resist adding.

It doesn't have the desired effect. Kevin nudges Cecil in the side and grins again. "We totally have a boytoy," he says, which makes Cecil laugh.

Carlos shakes his head. "You two are very bad."

"Besides," Cecil adds, "I thought time wasn't real…"

"…It isn't," Carlos replies, pausing to stare at them. "But I'm still younger than you."

"How does that even work?" Kevin now asks.

Carlos shrugs. "Relativity."

"Relativity?"

"Yes. Relativity."

They keep climbing. Carlos has no idea how much longer it takes but eventually – mercifully – the path levels out and they emerge onto a plateau just beneath the summit of the mountain, which stretches on and up above them, towards the impossible sky.

And there, on the plateau itself, is a lighthouse. _The_ lighthouse, with that blinking light flashing out from the very top: red, and then gone. Red… and then gone.

For a long moment, they stand staring at it. A cynical person might assume they're all catching their breath after the climb, but Carlos knows it's something more than that. He can feel it: a sense of _arrival_. That this is where they're meant to be. Where they were always meant to end up.

That all roads inexorably led here: to this plateau, this structure, this moment.

"What now?" Cecil asks, softly.

"Now… I guess we go in," Carlos replies.

"What if there's nothing inside?" Kevin wonders.

This is precisely the question that Carlos has been trying not to think about. "Then… we wait until morning. Until the light comes back. And then… we figure something out."

Which is, unfortunately, scientist-speak for 'I don't have a clue'.

Well, no. 'I don't have a clue _yet_ '.

He just has to hope it won't come to that.

Slowly, they approach the lighthouse, walking in careful, cautious unison, almost as if they're drawn to it somehow – which, in a strange way, they are. Hoping, above all else, that something within will get them home.

It's a plan that has long since lost any semblance of scientific sensibility. But this doesn't mean it can't work.

They pause at the lighthouse's single door and, as they do, Carlos catches sight of it out of the corner of his eye, and jumps as he realises what he's seeing.

"Carlos?" Cecil says, fingertips pausing inches from the door handle. "What is it?"

"Look at it," Carlos replies, urgently. "Look at it out of the corner of your eye."

It's how he's looking at it: just glancing, catching sight of it but never staring dead-on. And once the other two do the same, it's obvious from their reactions that they're seeing what Carlos is seeing.

A door. A different door. A door made of rough wood with brass fixtures that glint in the intermittent red glow of the lighthouse.

An old oak door.

"Masters of us all…" Cecil breathes.

"It's one of those," Kevin concurs, without needing to say what 'those' are because of course they know well enough.

"Open it," Carlos urges. "Keep looking out of the corner of your eye and open it."

So Cecil reaches to grip the handle again… but the door won't budge. He tries it a few times and then steps back, seeming a little alarmed. "It won't move," he says, somewhat redundantly. "Not even slightly."

"Maybe we need a key," Kevin suggests. "Or…"

And then they look at one other, and though nobody says another word, it's clear they all understand. Carlos certainly understands. Without speaking, they reach out, each laying a hand on the brass doorknob.

For a second, they don’t move and then – as one – they push forward.

And the door swings open.

"Yep," Kevin says, with a – very relieved – grin. "We've still got it."

But before Carlos can reply, a burst of light blazes out from within the lighthouse, pouring through the open gap: a burst of brilliant, _black_ light.

"Angel!" Cecil exclaims, before clapping a hand over his mouth.

"Seriously, Cecil, they're real," Kevin tells him, patting his double on the shoulder.

Cecil drops his hand, but doesn't look convinced. "They aren't," he insists. "And we're not allowed to know about them!"

Kevin headtilts. "But we should still talk to this one, right?"

"…Oh, absolutely."

Carlos shakes his head at the pair of them, and then pushes the door wide open.

Inside, the lighthouse consists of a single room: circular – unsurprisingly – with a wooden floor and rough, whitewashed walls. There is a ladder at the back, allowing access to the upper levels, but no other furniture or doors. Hanging on the walls are the only things the room appears to contain: dozens of framed photos, which – at first glance – seem to show windows, or other lighthouses, and Carlos is immediately reminded of the house that doesn't exist.

There's no opportunity to dwell on this, though – or to investigate further – because the room does technically contain one other thing – one other _person_ – although Carlos doubts he… _they_ … count among the lighthouse's usual fixtures.

"Marcus?!" Cecil exclaims.

The angel sighs, staring back at them with folded arms. " _Erika_ ," comes the now-obligatory correction. "It's _Erika_."

"Oh… yes, sorry," Cecil replies. "It's just tricky, because you're a… you know… and we're not allowed to know about you. Or your hierarchical structure. Or how some of you used to be regular people in Night Vale until you ascended."

Marcus-Erika looks down for a moment, and Carlos is struck by the possibility that the angel is counting to ten… or whatever the heavenly equivalent is.

"…Maybe we should focus?" Kevin suggests, carefully.

"Focus?" Cecil repeats. "We're up a _mountain_ with an _angel_ , neither of which actually exist!"

"We're also in an otherworldly desert," Carlos points out, in what he hopes is a valid counter-argument. "On another _plane_. So possibly the concept of 'existence' is less of a thing here."

Or, indeed, by Night Valean standards, although Carlos is smart enough to keep this part to himself.

"Are you all done?" the angel interrupts. "I've been waiting here for hours. _Hours_. Do you realise how busy and important I am?"

"Uh… you're an _angel_ ," Kevin replies. "Aren't you supposed to be extra-temporal?"

Marcus-Erika gives him something of a look. A lot of a look, actually. Kevin, for his part, does not seem fazed by it.

"Let me put it another way, then," the angel goes on, after another deep breath. "Do the three of you want to return to your own plane of existence or would you rather stay in this _charming_ otherworld desert?"

"You're here to take us home?" Cecil asks.

"Of course I am," Marcus-Erika replies. "I told you I would be. Didn't I tell you? Back in the house? With Erika and Cyberghost and the whole thing with the…"

The angel trails off, rubbing a hand over closed eyes before looking at them again. "No more deus-ex-machinas. Remember?"

" _Oh_ ," Cecil exclaims, nodding. "Yes. But… isn't you being here a deus-ex-machina anyway?"

"No!" the angel snaps. "Because I told you it would happen! It isn't a deus-ex-machina if you know it's going to happen!"

"Uh… yes, it is," Kevin interjects, politely. "A deus-ex-machina is a deus-ex-machina regardless of whether you know about it in advance or not."

The angel closes both eyes and does the silently-counting-to-heavenly-ten thing again, before turning to glower at Kevin. "Look. Would you like to be taken back to your own plane of existence or would you prefer to spend months wandering about in this otherwise featureless desert? Because I can totally do that. I can even split you all back up to increase the angst. Seriously. _Months_. Maybe an entire _year_. Would you prefer that?"

"No, no, we're fine with deus-ex-machinas," Carlos insists, before either of the others can wind up the angel any further. And because a few _hours_ wandering alone in this desert is enough. He doesn't think he could _deal_ with _months_ , and a _year_ doesn't even bear consideration.

" _Wonderful_ ," the angel answers, dryly.

"Can I ask a question first, though?" Cecil goes on.

Marcus-Erika stares at him. "You just did. But I guess we've got time for another. Well, I do. I'm extra-temporal _and_ immortal. I've got time for _everything_."

"Uh… right, OK. So, my question is… why did we have to climb all the way up here? If you knew where we were going to be, why not wait for us someplace sooner? Like… you know… the _bottom_ of the non-existent mountain?"

"…It's a _metaphor_ ," Marcus-Erika insists.

"…For _what?_ "

" _Exactly_."

"I don't get it."

"Exactly!"

Cecil pauses a second, evidently trying to work out how to respond to this. "…Kevin, tell him to stop."

"You're the one arguing about the nature of reality with an angel," his double points out, unhelpfully.

"I'm not!"

"Cecil. You so are."

"…You two should have your own show," the angel mutters.

"They _do_ have their own show," Carlos can't help pointing out.

There is a sudden, awkward silence.

"Can we go home now?" Carlos asks, before things get any worse.

"Frankly, I'm re-evaluating my stance on that," the angel drawls.

"Please?"

"…Oh, fine. If it makes you stop."

Marcus-Erika holds out both hands and – very suddenly – there's a burst of near-blinding black light. It obscures all of reality for an instant, but in that instant – an instant unbound by illusory time – Carlos is sure he sees things through the radiance. Things for which there are no words and no explanations, and no means of denial all the same.

Infinite worlds. Infinite possibilities. An entire multiverse of existence and non-existence, glittering like a ceaseless, unfathomable eleven-dimensional seascape.

Impossible. Terrifying. Beautiful.

And then reality snaps back into focus all at once, making Carlos instinctively reach out to touch both of his boyfriends – partly for balance, and partly to reassure himself that they're still there.

He blinks. He draws breath. And then…

"Everyone!" comes a sudden shout: a voice that is, unmistakeably, Darla Hartley. " _Everyone!_ Quick! They're back!"

Carlos blinks again. The four of them are standing in a familiar room, lit by the glow of the very much natural sun pouring in through the windows.

It's the hallway in Naomi's house.

They made it.

People come running. He hears the footsteps from all around and, in seconds, there are familiar figures appearing from various doorways, staring in obvious surprise at the newcomers – including the angel – in the hall. Most of them hang back, but one – with a sudden shriek – launches themself straight at Cecil.

It's Steve Carlsberg.

"God damn it, Cecil Palmer, I thought you were _dead!_ " he exclaims, flinging both arms around his brother-in-law and holding on tight. "Don't you _ever_ do that to me again!"

"Seriously, Steve, I'm _fine_ ," Cecil insists, trying to prise him off.

On Carlos' other side, Kirsten quickly steps up to Kevin and pulls him into a much less violent hug and, as she does, Caitlin moves over to Carlos.

"You need a hug too, honey," she says, and promptly gives him one and… she's right. He does.

They're home. They're _home_. They're all home and they're all alive and… he almost can't believe it.

By the time Caitlin steps back from the hug, Cecil has managed to pry Steve off, which means that Caitlin can now move in to embrace her brother, holding on tight for a moment. Carlos is vaguely concerned that Steve is going to try hugging _him_ next, but – luckily – a voice interrupts before anything else can happen, making them all turn to look at the speaker.

"Oh, you had us worried," says Naomi, from where she's standing with Darla at her side. "After what happened at HQ…"

"We're fine," Kevin tells her. "We're all fine. We made it through to the Otherworld Desert – admittedly in completely different places – but eventually found each other and then climbed up to the lighthouse. And when we got there, Erika brought us home."

All eyes go to the angel. "It wasn't a deus-ex-machina!" Marcus-Erika insists, defensively.

It was. Though Carlos is hardly going to argue.

"Well, you've certainly been busy," Naomi says, giving the angel a nod.

"Busy?" Kevin repeats, looking between the two of them. "Did we miss something?"

"Oh, you have no idea!" Darla exclaims, looking thoroughly delighted. "Go on, Nay, tell them!"

"All right," Naomi begins, "so… the three of you disappeared, and Lauren fell through the portal. Darla and I had managed to get through to the side room, so we were shielded from the worst of it. Eventually, the portal collapsed in on itself and closed."

"It was _way_ unimpressive," Darla interrupts. "Barely even blew out the windows."

"Given that we were in the next room at the time, that's probably for the best," Naomi goes on, pointedly. "So. When the portal closed, the false-sun up in the sky – the echo of the Smiling God – could no longer get through, and it vanished at once. And, because it was technically the middle of the night by that point, everything went very dark."

"What about the battle?" Cecil asks. "Did everyone..?"

"They all made it," Naomi replies. "We did lose people – on both sides – but all of the original revolutionaries… they made it. The infinite-seven made sure of that."

"Damn skippy we did!" Steve exclaims. "That shield we can make was even stronger with seven of us, and as for the energy pulses…"

"It sure was something," Larry agrees. "Certainly made things difficult for those Strex guys."

"But you won?" Kevin interjects, as if somehow desperate to hear it confirmed. "I mean… Strexcorp is gone, right?"

Naomi smiles. "Not exactly," she answers.

Kevin stares at her in obvious alarm and confusion. "Strex… still exists?"

"Relax," Naomi goes on. "Let me explain. First… yes. We won the battle. It was over by the time Darla and I made it back to the plaza."

"They didn't last long after that false-sun vanished," Dana chips in. "Our forces were already winning, but when the sky went dark…"

"Didn't even need helicopters this time," Tamika Flynn adds. "Just books, a few rocks, and good old-fashioned literary theory."

"Took a while for the sandstorm to pass over, though," Frederick points out. "We all had to sit tight inside the infinite-seven's shield, whilst keeping an eye on the Strex survivors. Good thing I had the death ray mark two and–"

"Wait, _what?_ " Carlos interjects. "Frederick…"

"…OK, don't get mad," Frederick says, looking unusually defensive. "So, you know that thing I've been working on in between everything else? Well… death ray mark two. _Totally_ safe this time."

Carlos facepalms. "How many people did you kill?"

Frederick shrugs. "It was a battle, Carlos. For our lives!"

"…Are you _sure_ you and Roderick weren't switched at birth?"

"…Oh, hey, that's totally a funny story…" Marcus-Erika starts out, and then immediately comes to a halt. "…That I'm not allowed to tell. Wretched hierarchical structure…"

Quite a few people stare at him. Frederick, on the other hand, remains completely unfazed.

" _So_ ," Naomi goes on, pointedly, "Darla and I got back to the plaza and met up with everyone, and we were all debating what to do next when… well. When the angels appeared."

"Angels… _plural?_ " Cecil asks, looking like he might be about to put his hands over his ears.

"Oh, you bet," says Old Woman Josie, with a broad smile. "Whole bunch of them, including Erika, here. They said they had a solution to the whole Strexcorp problem. One that is in no way a deus-ex-machina."

"A solution?" Kevin repeats, softly.

"Oh yeah," Grandma Josephine chips in, exchanging a grin with her double. "It's kinda perfect, actually."

"It really is," Naomi agrees. "You see, Erika – prior to ascension – was apparently some sort of major businessperson over in Night Vale."

"'Major businessperson'?" Cecil repeats. "Marcus Vansten was our local billionaire! Before he… he…" And Cecil can only trail off at this point, giving a vaguely alarmed handflap in Marcus-Erika's general direction.

"Exactly," the angel agrees. "And though I'm now totally a timeless, immortal being of heavenly perfection, I still have control over Vansten Enterprises. On account of how there was this special clause in the ownership contracts that… well. That worked in our favour. So I – on behalf of the angels – used that."

"To do what?" Kevin pushes.

Marcus-Erika shrugs. "I declared eminent domain."

"Over what?"

Another shrug. "The First Infernal Plane."

Kevin stares. " _What?!_ You can _do_ that?"

A third shrug. "Apparently so."

"You declared _eminent domain_ over the _entire_ First Infernal Plane?!"

"Yep."

"Cool, isn't it?" Darla chips in, grinning from ear to ear. "But that's not the best part. See: after the angels had declared eminent domain over the First Infernal Plane – I love saying that because it rhymes, and also 'cause it's so _cool_ – they were able to apportion out its resources, among which was, of course, Strexcorp."

"I thought Strex was originally from Desert Bluffs?" Carlos can't help asking.

"It was," Naomi replies. "But when my father and the rest of the Management Board took it over, they re-registered it under First Infernal Plane entitlements. It's one of the reasons they were so good at repelling hostile takeover attempts. It's hard to beat a company which is drawing on _that_ kind of power. So the angels seized the First Infernal Plane – and Strexcorp too, by default."

"And then what?" Kevin pushes.

Naomi smiles. "Then they gave it to me. I am now CEO and sole proprietor of Strexcorp Synernists Inc."

There's a moment of silence in which Carlos is suddenly unsure how Kevin is going to react to this rather unexpected news. And then? Then Kevin smiles too. "…Merciless Azatothoth, I wish Mr Hartley was alive to see this," he says, almost breathless with delight.

"I _know_ , right?" Darla agrees. "So, yeah… Strex still exists, but it's totally ours now. Well. Totally _Nay's_ now." A pause. "…And wow, that's so hot…"

"Needless to say," Naomi goes on, giving Darla a positively flirtatious look, "I will be making one or two organisational changes to the Strexcorp business model. _Quite_ a few changes, if I'm being honest. In fact, the angels had barely finished handing over control of the company to me before I got started. I revoked the soul-bind on the contracts, freeing all the employees, and cancelled out several deals my father had made with groups on other infernal planes. In particular… one that involved the destruction of all those _other_ shards of the Bloodstone that Lauren had apparently been trying to weaponise since the night we destroyed it. Getting rid of _those_ had quite a dramatic effect, which… well. Maybe you should just look outside…"

Carlos, Kevin and Cecil all glance at each other and then – staying close – they walk over to the window. Carlos is aware that everyone is watching them, as if waiting for their reaction… and, when they look out, he can suddenly understand why.

The blood that once coated Desert Bluffs is… not gone, but greatly reduced. The city vista glitters in the sunlight, suddenly golden instead of crimson, and Carlos finds himself staring at it for a long moment before turning to look at Kevin, just as Cecil does the same. And, standing between them, Kevin can only keep staring out, ever-dark eyes fixated on the view.

"It rained most of the morning," Darla tells them, helpfully. "Like, actual rain… you know, _water_. Haven't seen rain like that since Nay and I were on honeymoon in Luftnarp. Forecast is for more later on. Your friend Ted has been getting _way_ excited about the whole affair."

"…You saved it," Kevin whispers, his voice cracking. "I mean… you, all of you… you _saved_ Desert Bluffs..!"

" _We_ saved it," Cecil replies, pulling his double into a hug before the man breaks down in front of people.

"…We won, didn't we?" Carlos breathes, vaguely aware that the shock is finally hitting him too, now. "We _won?_ "

"Oh yes," Naomi says. "We won. The dark powers that have enthralled this town for decades are finally gone, and the last remnants of the Bloodstone are no more. It's why the blood itself is vanishing."

"Which is kinda a shame," Darla remarks, looking thoroughly unapologetic. "I mean, you have to admit, it's a lovely colour."

No one is quite brave enough to argue with her, although Naomi gives her something of a look before she speaks again. "Now, you said you all made it through to the Otherworld Desert after you drank those vials of OJ, but I'm sure James is _desperate_ for more details."

"Darn right I'm desperate for more!" James Paulson exclaims. "It actually worked?"

It's just a good thing that Carlos is only hearing the surprise in the man's voice _after_ having drunk trans-dimensional orange juice, and not _before_.

"It worked," he replies, as the three of them turn away from the window and back to the room. "We all appeared in the Otherworld Desert seconds after drinking the vials. We were in separate places – pretty far apart, actually – and it took what felt like hours to find each other. But eventually we did, and then we climbed the mountain."

"Impressive, isn't it?" says Dana, with an oddly nostalgic smile. "Even if mountains aren't real."

"Impressive, yes," Cecil agrees, looking very hesitant to talk about it.

"'Steep' would be the word I'd use," Kevin remarks. "Took us ages to reach the top. When we did, we got inside the lighthouse and that's where Erika was waiting for us."

"And once they were done questioning my plan, I brought them back here," the angel adds, tone hinted with a wry edge. "Which was in no way a deus-ex-machina."

"And… now what?" Carlos has to ask. "It's… over?"

"Almost," Darla says, with a wicked grin. "It's _almost_ over."

"Wait, there's something _else?_ " Cecil exclaims.

"Oh yes," Darla goes on. "The most important part of all."

"Which is?" Kevin asks.

"The big damn victory party."

" _Ah_ ," Kevin says, suddenly smiling again. "Now that, I think, we can do…"


	26. Raise Your Glass

_So raise your glass if you are wrong_  
 _In all the right ways, all my underdogs_  
 _We will never be, never be anything but loud_  
 _And nitty, gritty, dirty, little freaks_  
 _Won't you come on and come on and_  
 _Raise your glass_

~ Pink: _'Raise Your Glass'_

***

Night falls. Night falls on a city that shimmers gold in the light of the setting sun; a city now devoid of a deep red glow at its very core. A city with only lingering streaks of blood to hint at its terrible past. A city that no longer echoes with a ceaseless hum and a broken roar, hidden beneath a song somehow far more terrible.

And then the fireworks go up, rocketing into the sky from the estate in the north-east, where the members of the Desert Bluffs revolutionary band are getting down to the important business of celebration.

Carlos and Frederick arrange the fireworks: Frederick volunteers to do it alone, but there's no way Carlos is going to let the man near that amount of explosives without an escort. Gathered on the main lawn, a rather large crowd stands staring skywards, making suitably awed sounds at each burst of coloured light.

It's all just good science, of course. A little combustion, a little of the right metals… and, well.

Boom.

When the main display is over, people start breaking off into groups, drinking, talking, _mingling_. Carlos is not so good at parties – that infamous New Year aside – but even he can't help a smile as he stands and watches. It's a sight he would never have expected to see even a few short weeks ago: people from Night Vale and people from Desert Bluffs calmly engaged in conversation.

He's still out on the main lawn – it's a warm and pleasant evening – with Cecil lingering at his side. Neither of them is quite sure where Kevin has wandered off to, but they get an answer soon enough as the man himself comes hurrying out of the wide-open patio doors looking positively delighted.

"Oh, you'll never guess what!" he exclaims – and then, before they even have a chance to _try_ guessing anything, he goes on with, "Naomi says we have to invite the demons!"

"'Invite the demons'?!" Carlos repeats, in sudden alarm. "Why?"

"Because they were part of the revolution! And they're valued members of the workforce! And… OK, wow, being able to get excited about this stuff again is so _liberating_."

It's also far too adorable to allow for any kind of objection from Carlos. Cecil looks like he might be about to try, however, though he doesn't get the chance because at this point Naomi emerges from the house with Darla and Steve in tow.

This, of course, immediately changes Cecil's focus. "…Oh no, you're not including that insane creature Steve got himself soul-bound to, are you?"

"Of course!" Kevin exclaims. "It's important to maintain equal opportunities at all times. Especially company functions."

"Kevin, this is not a company function, this is a revolution victory party," Carlos points out.

Kevin grins at him. "Oh, you," he says. "Why can't it be both?"

Before Carlos can attempt to answer, Naomi gets close enough to clap Kevin on the shoulder. "Come along," she says, brightly. "If we're doing this, we'd better get it done before I change my mind."

"Stop worrying, Nay, it will be fine," Darla insists, and – from the way she and Kevin exchange a sudden, very bright grin – it's obvious they've conspired to get Naomi to agree to all this in the first place.

"You better remember you said that when someone accidentally gets blinked out of existence," Naomi replies. "Summoning Ozhen'ipleth is not something to take lightly!"

"That's why you're doing it in the garden," Kevin points out, in his most reasonable voice. "And besides, you're the boss now, you can totally get away with it."

"I didn't take over Strexcorp just so I could summon demons whenever I felt like it," Naomi says, though she's smiling too much to be anything other than amused. And possibly slightly tipsy.

"You didn't take over Strexcorp at all," Steve interjects. "The angels did. Then they gave it to you."

"…Technicalities," Naomi replies, with a vague handwave. "OK, fine then. You can summon yours, too. Darla thinks he's funny."

Steve narrows his eyes at Darla, who remains utterly unfazed. At this point, Kevin decides to make matters worse by locking arms with Steve and walking him out into the middle of the lawn, which makes Steve look deeply alarmed (and Cecil positively delighted). Naomi gives an amused little headshake and follows them, leaving Cecil, Carlos and Darla watching from the side.

"…Don't you have one too?" Cecil says to Darla, and, OK, seriously, when did talking about soul-bound demons become so _normal?_

Darla shrugs. "Sure I do. But she's… well. She's a bit specialised. On account of my basement hobbies. I only call on her when I'm engaged in certain rituals. She's… not a people person. Or, you know, a person at all, strictly-speaking…"

Luckily, Cecil doesn't opt to question this any further. Some things are best left unasked. Like 'just exactly what _is_ a specialised necromancy demon?'

Out in the centre of the lawn, there is a sudden burst of chanting and light. Steve is – unsurprisingly – the first to finish, and within seconds he's got Bharaieogh lurking at his shoulder, watching the other two and _clearly_ delighted to be doing so.

"…I do wish my brother-in-law's demon wasn't such a fanboy for my double's demon…" Cecil murmurs, which Carlos is sure is a sentence he'll never be able to forget, no matter how hard he tries.

Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty is the next to appear, in his usual burst of infernal light, and Carlos is confident the demon must have some way of knowing about these summonings in advance because he's clearly dressed for the occasion again… as much as an eight-foot, bat-winged creature permanently drenched in blood can _ever_ be said to 'dress for the occasion'. He affords Kevin a short half-bow and then promptly bounds over to Bharaieogh.

"…You're welcome!" Kevin calls after him, as the two demons immediately wander off, deep in conversation and flatly ignoring their summoners.

"…What he said!" Steve tries adding, but it makes no difference.

By this point, Naomi's summoning ritual is almost over, and there are smoke tendrils extending a good fifteen feet in all directions from where she's standing. A sudden burst of white light cuts the air, and then that strange, gremlin-like creature appears on her shoulder, tail trailing down her back, as the smoke gradually begins to fade.

" _Such_ a cutie," Darla remarks. "You gotta love an entity that can manifest with such drama and yet be so adorable at the same time. Also, y'know, her demon's pretty cool too…"

"…It's going to be one of those nights, isn't it?" Carlos murmurs to Cecil.

"…Yes," Cecil agrees. "I think perhaps it is."

***

He's right.

It's a little while later. Carlos has finally persuaded Cecil to rescue Steve from Kevin, who has been extolling the virtues of having your very own demon despite the fact that _his_ very own demon has wandered off with his fanboy. To make matters worse – judging by the sounds – both demons are now engaged in a thoroughly heated debate about extra-planar rights with Old Woman Josie, Grandma Josephine and Marcus-Erika, the latter of whom looks highly unimpressed by the whole affair.

On the plus side, there have been a few drinks, which definitely helps soften the mood. There is – apparently – punch somewhere that Darla has made, and that Naomi is selectively warning people not to drink depending on how much she likes them.

It's turning into quite an evening. Off in one corner, the young people of the group are all gathered together, drinking non-alcoholic punch (made by Steve and Larry, and therefore both safe and non-trans-dimensional) and trying to remain sufficiently non-obtrusive enough to avoid being sent to bed. Although… oddly, there's no sign of either Tamika or Gillian, and Carlos can't help wondering where the two of them have disappeared off to.

"I still can't quite believe we got this far," Carlos says to Cecil. They're inside now, in the large central living room, with the huge lawn beyond the still-open patio doors. "I mean, just a couple of days ago, we were… and now…"

"I know," Cecil replies, gripping his hand. "It's a lot to take in. But… it makes it all worth it. Everything we went through, all of those long nights… and here we are, at the end."

"Oh, don't say that," Carlos murmurs, leaning in. "Saying things like that, in this place? Isn't it tempting fate? And… wow, I really have been here too long, haven't I?"

Cecil kisses the side of his head. "You could never be here too long. But you have gotten rather more used to it all. And you're probably right… I probably _shouldn't_ tempt fate."

"Especially because I have the feeling there's something we've forgotten…" Carlos adds, as said feeling suddenly dawns on him.

As if in answer, there's an outburst of roaring from the far side of the room: roaring that can only be an agitated dragon. Hiram McDaniels has reared up onto his back legs, four heads staring down at someone in front of him and the fifth shooting fire dangerously close to the nearby group of humans.

"Not in my living room!" comes Darla's voice from somewhere amidst everything.

This makes Hiram settle a little, but only a little. People are starting to crowd in closer, obviously sensing drama – aside from a few of the more sensible ones, who instead back further away. Carlos wants to join them, but Cecil immediately heads over, and Carlos follows. As if there's anything he can actually do to protect the man from an angry five-headed dragon if matters get out of hand.

It's the principle of the thing.

"This is outrageous!" Hiram is exclaiming, having calmed down enough to speak. "We had a deal!"

"And we still do," Dana insists, staring up at the dragon unwaveringly.

"That's not what your _convenient_ new advisor said!" Hiram retorts, five sets of eyes flashing angrily at Pamela, who is standing at Dana's side.

" _Ms Winchell_ was merely stating a point," Trish Hidge cuts in, moving to stand at Dana's other side, staring Hiram down. "And I would like to add, for the record, that I agree. It _would_ be politically-damaging to engage in another mayoral race so soon after the last one."

"We did not demand a second race, we demanded a recount!" Hiram's green head bellows. "And we will not be denied our satisfaction, tiny morsel!"

"Look, Hiram, I don't want to fight with you," Dana says, in her most diplomatic tone. "I promised you a recount and if that's what you want, that's what you'll get. But… Pamela does have a point. If there was another way to resolve this… it might be better for all concerned."

"Hiram, even _I_ have to agree with them," comes the voice of the Faceless Old Woman, from somewhere close by. "And you know how much I wanted to be mayor. But… you also know we don't stand a chance now. Not after what happened before the battle."

This seems to throw Hiram somewhat. "…Then what exactly do you suggest?" he demands.

"Burn them all!" his violet head cuts in. "Remove the competition and the problem solves itself!"

"Violet has a good point," his blue head concurs. "This appears to be one situation where violence _would_ produce a positive outcome."

"…If I might make another suggestion?" Naomi cuts in, having calmly made her way to the front of the crowd.

"…Go on," says Hiram, somewhat tetchily, but clearly not quite ready to argue with the woman who just inherited all of Strexcorp.

"Though I have no doubt that Mayor Cardinal would grant you the recount, as agreed, I very much suspect the result would be the same," Naomi says. "And, although I have only the opinions of a handful of Night Valeans to go by, I am confident that a fresh bout of elections would produce a similar outcome too."

"Hence the need for burning!" Hiram's green head interjects.

"This being the case," Naomi goes on, without missing a beat, "your options are fire or compromise. And, though most of your heads appear to be in agreement about the merits of the former, I rather suspect you'd prefer the latter. Because, Hiram, if you really meant for this to end in fire and rending… it already would have done so."

Five sets of eyes narrow at her, which pretty much proves the point. "Then what are you proposing?" Hiram half-growls.

Naomi smiles. There are flickers of her father's influence in that smile, but Carlos knows there's too much good in the woman for it to ever be a problem. "Well," she says, smoothly, "as you know, since the angels declared eminent domain over the First Infernal Plane and seized Strexcorp as a result, I am now sole CEO and proprietor of the entire company. Strexcorp itself was – and technically still is – the majority owner of Desert Bluffs as a whole, so – for the time being – this town is actually under my rule."

" _So_ hot," Darla breathes, shamelessly.

" _Therefore_ ," Naomi continues, "as I have already proven, I am in a position to enact certain changes. It is my intent to put an end to this controlling influence, and to place Desert Bluffs back under its own autonomy, separate from the company. With that in mind, there is the matter of appointing a new mayor here. Our last mayor, Pablo Mitchell, died about a year ago in… mysterious circumstances…"

_…don't ask questions, don't ask questions, don't ask questions…_

"…and, since then, Strexcorp has handled day-to-day civic operations in the town. But I think it's time that post was filled again. Of course, in future, it should be an elected position – as in Night Vale – but given that we are just coming out of a state of emergency, I see no reason not to appoint someone I trust to guide the city through its first steps back into independence."

A very heavy silence descends. Even Hiram seems momentarily stunned; all five heads staring at Naomi, then at each other, and then back at Naomi again.

"…Let me get this straight," Hiram says, carefully. "Are you offering to make _me_ Mayor of _Desert Bluffs?_ "

"Yes," Naomi answers. "Yes, I am. You're a forward-thinker, you're not afraid to make difficult decisions, and I suspect you'd rather like running a city with a tendency towards idolising majestic, non-human beings. In addition, your connections with Night Vale would be invaluable in drawing our two towns closer together. I realise it's a lot to take in, and you might need some time to think ab–"

" _We accept!_ " all five of Hiram's heads interrupt, in unison.

"…Seriously?" says the Faceless Old Woman. "Hiram gets to be Mayor of Desert Bluffs? What about _me?_ I may not be able to breathe fire, but I can still _end_ every one of you if you cross me..!"

"I was hoping you'd stay on my team," Dana replies. "We've worked well together these last few days, and I was thinking we could make it a more permanent arrangement."

There's a brief silence. It's hard to know how the Faceless Old Woman is reacting, given that Carlos can't see her, but somehow he imagines she's deep in thought. "…If it's a permanent arrangement, it should come with a permanent job title. _Pamela_ gets to be Secretary for Emergency Press Conferences, after all."

"How about Deputy Mayor?" Dana suggests.

" _Deputy?_ The worst job in the world?"

"But with scope to move upwards when my term comes to an end."

Another silence. "…Good point. And I _am_ timeless and ageless, so I suppose I can afford to wait a few years. All right, I accept."

" _Mayor_ of _Desert Bluffs?!_ " Hiram suddenly exclaims, full of delight, having evidently gotten over his initial shock. "I get to be _Mayor_ of _Desert Bluffs?!_ This may just be the best day ever!"

Dana smiles in obvious relief. "Well, then. I guess that's sorted. Funny how these things work out…"

She's not wrong.

***

Things calm down after that, at least from a political point of view. They don't become _quieter_ , however, given the party is gradually escalating with every passing moment.

By now, Carlos and Cecil have found themselves a couch to relax on, and they're just asking each other where Kevin can have got to when the man himself appears – again – and drops down next to them, curling unashamedly into Cecil's side.

"Hey, you two," he says, looking over at them. "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Oh yes," Cecil answers. "John and James – you know, the farmers? – were just telling us all about a plan to improve the market with regards to imaginary corn, and…"

"…OK, seriously, you're discussing _agricultural policy?_ " Kevin interrupts, sitting up and looking alarmed. "We have _got_ to get you some of Darla's punch…"

"We have Armagnac," Carlos insists. "It's safer. Even _Naomi_ is warning people about the punch."

"Oh, don't worry, it's fine," Kevin replies, idly. "I've had three glasses already and I still have the right number of limbs and haven't started speaking _any_ new dead languages…"

"…It concerns me that _that_ is your definition of 'fine'," Carlos says.

Kevin reaches over Cecil and bats at him. Before any of them can speak again, however, Steve comes hurrying across. He and Cecil exchange the obligatory narrowed glances, but when Steve speaks, it's to Kevin.

"Uh… look, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure you can!"

"…So, er, your demon is offering round a hip-flask of something from 'back home' and I figured I should probably ask if it's wise to–"

Kevin leaps to his feet. "Oh no," he exclaims. "He's _what?_ Promise me you didn't drink any of it?"

" _I_ didn't," Steve replies, "but I'm afraid Frederick did and…"

"… _Oh no_ ," Kevin repeats. "Where is he?"

" _Why?_ " Carlos interrupts, in scientist-wrangling voice.

Even Kevin has the good grace to look a little guilty. "Well, if _Azzie_ is offering it round, it's no doubt one of the infernal liquors. As in, it's from the Fourth Infernal Plane. That stuff is… not good for humans."

" _Define 'not good'?!"_ Carlos exclaims.

As if in answer, there's a sudden shout from out in the hallway. "…Consider yourself challenged to a duel!" Frederick shrieks. "For _science!_ "

Kevin facepalms. "How many shots did he have?"

"Just _one_ ," Steve replies.

"Challenge accepted!" comes Bharaieogh's roar of agreement.

"…Help?" Steve says to Kevin, voice an octave higher than usual.

" _Azatothoth!_ " Kevin shouts, in what can only be described as demon-wrangling voice, and he stalks off in the direction of the hall with Steve following desperately in his wake.

Carlos and Cecil exchange a look. "We should really go too," Carlos points out, much as he would rather _avoid_ anything involving Frederick and _infernal planes liquor_.

Because, at this rate, he's going to want some himself.

***

By the time they've pried Frederick and Bharaieogh off each other, Carlos is a lot less reticent about accepting some of the punch – at least once Kevin has made Azatothoth promise, hand-on-hearts, that he hasn't spiked it with _whatever_ is in the hip-flask.

Bharaieogh is not happy about having his duel interrupted, and sits down on the stairs in a furious sulk.

"…Azzie, this is your fault," Kevin says, arms folded and doing a surprisingly good impression of a sensible adult.

"How?" Azatothoth retorts, sullenly. "All I did was try to liven things up a bit."

"We remember what happened the time you persuaded _me_ to try that stuff, right?"

A deep, demonic sigh. "…Yes, Kevin."

"You know full-well that humans can't tolerate extra-planar alcohols."

A deeper sigh. "… _Yes_ , Kevin."

"Therefore it is your fault. So. You can go talk Bharaieogh down. _I_ have to go support Carlos whilst _he_ talks Frederick down and, trust me, you do not want to swap."

"…Yes, Kevin."

And Azatothoth trudges off towards his fanboy, who seems at least mildly placated by the attention.

Carlos finishes the remnants of his glass and turns to Frederick, who is currently pacing back and forth, muttering away to himself.

"…Frederick?"

"Carlos!" the other scientist exclaims, as if he's just spotted him. "Team leader! Yes! You can help! I think we can improve the death ray. Make it even more… death-y."

"No, Frederick," Carlos says, rubbing a hand over his eyes and vaguely wondering why he suddenly seems to have a soul-bound scientist. "I think maybe we should get you some coffee."

"Coffee!" Frederick declares. "Yes, coffee! I like coffee! I could have that next! Then there could be _science!_ I love science. All the science. Lovely science-y science…"

"…Frederick," Kevin interrupts, in a soft purr. "Where's that blowdart of yours?"

"Why do you ask?" Frederick replies, pleasantly.

Kevin smiles. "No reason."

***

Once they've laid Frederick down in one of the side-rooms, they all wander out into the main hub of the party again.

"…I take it back," Carlos murmurs. "That punch is _great_. We should have some more… or we could totally do tests on it to see why it's so good, and _then_ have some more, and maybe the three of us could go do the tests in the lab on our own and it might take a while and…"

"…Carlos?" Cecil interrupts, carefully.

"Hm?"

"You know all that was out loud, right?"

"It… was?"

"Yes."

"…Ooops?"

Perhaps mercifully, they're interrupted again: this time by the sudden roar of a helicopter overhead. Everyone goes quiet, flickers of sobriety creeping in whilst they all wonder who it might be and _why_.

Most of the attendees hurry outside, to see a helicopter landing on the lawn: a yellow helicopter covered in purple warpaint. As the blades power down, the door clunks open and Tamika Flynn steps calmly out, followed immediately by Gillian.

"Gillian!" Kirsten exclaims. "I wondered where you'd got to. Janice said you'd just gone upstairs!"

"Don't be mad, Mom," Gillian replies, carefully. "I asked everyone to cover for us, and then I asked Tamika if she'd help me with something, and she agreed, and…"

A third figure steps out of the helicopter, and Carlos feels his breath catch in alarm as he sets eyes on Daniel… only then he relaxes, and remembers.

"…Hi, everyone," Fey begins. "It's me. Fey."

"We needed to go get her," Gillian explains. "No way could we have this victory party without Fey. So, like I said, I asked Tamika to help because she's a _totally_ awesome helicopter pilot and… voila!"

She smiles. Even the normally-stoic Tamika seems to be smiling a little too. And Fey? She _beams_ as she looks around at them all.

"I never thought I'd see you like this!" she exclaims. "You're all so… so _you!_ And I… I can _see_ you, here and there and everywhere; trails of being that criss-cross all around… like the stars up above, only lines, not circles."

She beams some more.

"Come meet everyone!" Gillian says, taking Fey's hand and gesturing her over to where the rest of the young people are still encamped, and Fey – bouncing with delight – follows.

"…That's kinda adorable, right?" Carlos murmurs, as they watch.

"It's completely adorable," Cecil concurs. "Also a little strange, because she looks like Daniel, and Daniel… well. Daniel and I did not get on."

"Oh, now, that's an understatement," Kevin chips in. "Daniel couldn't _stand_ you. The only person he hated more than you was _me_."

"Then he had very poor taste," Carlos says, firmly, locking arms with both of them. "Plus, it's what's _inside_ that counts."

The doubles turn their heads to look at him. Carlos grins. "Come along, Kevin," he says, brightly. "We'd better go check that your demon hasn't sulked himself out of existence."

Yes. The punch was definitely a very good idea.

Or possibly the other thing.

***

When they make it through the crowd and out into the hall once more, Azatothoth and Bharaieogh are still sitting on the stairs, side by side, looking more mellow than melancholy and now sharing the hip-flask between them.

Kevin gives a little headtilt, and he, Cecil and Carlos all hang back so they can listen.

"…which is how I ended up getting promoted to adjunct, and _wow_ but my parents were proud of me that day," Azatothoth is saying.

"I'm sure the puny archivist was less pleased, though," Bharaieogh replies.

The taller demon shrugs. "I'd say he was. Evisceration will do that to you."

They both pause, with an oddly wistful air, which only makes the whole conversation even more alarming. The only mercy is that they don't then launch into detail.

"Azzie," Bharaieogh starts out, and apparently the two of them are on less formal terms now. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Azatothoth rumbles, gesturing with the hip-flask as he passes it back over.

"Your name's very… distinctive. Are you called after–?"

"Don't say it, don't say it!" Azatothoth interrupts, looking suddenly – if drunkenly – urgent. "If you invoke him, you'll end the universe!"

"I know, I know," Bharaieogh replies, quickly. "I wasn't _actually_ going to say his name. I'm not _stupid_. But… you know, _him?_ "

Azatothoth sighs, but – again – it's more of a wistful sigh than anything else. "My parents thought it was cool," he answers, with that long-suffering edge to his tone. "They took… _his_ name… and added another syllable to the middle so as _not_ to end the universe. They thought it would give me an edge in the workplace."

"And… did it?"

"It was _hell_ at school. But… yeah, come to think of it, I reckon it _does_ help nowadays. Sort of. A bit. Gets me noticed."

He murmurs something incoherent and takes the hip-flask back, drinking a long mouthful.

"What about you? Where'd you get your name?"

Bharaieogh shrugs. "It was my uncle's. He left it to me, after the incident."

This makes Azatothoth laugh and slap him on the shoulder, and Carlos is only glad that the taller demon doesn't ask for any more details. He looks sideways at Kevin.

"…We should get out of here now, right?" he whispers.

"Probably for the best," Kevin agrees. "Unless you want me to get Azzie to tell you the story about–"

"…No, Kevin," Cecil interrupts, pointedly (though the effect is somewhat lost by the fact he can't stop grinning).

Luckily, the pause is enough for Carlos to direct them away from the demons before they're noticed.

Sometimes you have to play these things safe.

***

A little while later, Carlos finds himself volunteering to wander over to the punch table again (because if they're doing this, they're doing it properly) to get refills for the three of them. As he draws closer, he realises that Hiram McDaniels is curled in the nearby corner (which, considering that he's eighteen feet tall, is quite a thing) looking… surprisingly mellow, given what's transpired so far tonight.

And then Carlos hears the dragon speak, and it takes a second for him to realise that Hiram's gold head isn't talking to one of the others, or to himself, but to… well. A _sixth_ party.

"I guess it all worked out in the end."

"You _would_ say that," comes the voice of the Faceless Old Woman, from close by. "You did just get made Mayor of Desert Bluffs after all."

"So? You got made Deputy Mayor of Night Vale!"

There's an odd pause, and a collective sigh.

"I guess neither of us ended up where we expected," Hiram goes on.

"There's a lot of that about," agrees the Faceless Old Woman, dryly. "But then, are any of us ever where we expect? I always have been, of course, so tonight is…"

She trails off.

"…A bit of a shock to the system?" Hiram asks.

"…Something like that."

They pause again.

"Guess that makes this thing between us a draw," Hiram's gold head continues.

"For now, Hiram," the Faceless Old Woman replies. "For now."

"Such fighting talk!" Hiram's green head roars, albeit perhaps not as loudly as usual. "We appreciate that in an adversary."

"We really do," Hiram's gold head concurs. "Faceless Old Woman… you're all right."

Another pause. It's hard to tell if these pauses are the Faceless Old Woman actually doing anything, or just pauses, on account of how Carlos can't see her.

"Well… you're all right too," the Faceless Old Woman concedes.

"Glad we agree," Hiram says, and then adds, in an odd tone, "…Feels sorta like you're leaning on me a little."

"…I might be. Is… that OK?"

"Uhm… yeah. Actually… it kinda is."

"I… like the contact."

"I… like the contact too."

"…Oh, get a room already!" Hiram's green head snorts.

Carlos quickly picks up the re-filled glasses and makes a run for it before this conversation gets any weirder.

That's pretty much the theme of the night, all things considered.

***

It's later still.

By now, the young people have been sent off to bed. This does, of course, mean that they'll be holding an all-night secret slumber party on the top floor, but no one is really going to interfere with that. Fey opts to stay with the adults, although luckily Naomi gets to her in time before she can try the punch.

Carlos finds himself wondering what would happen if the former-sentient-computer-turned-liberated-robot with the ability to predict the future using numbers was allowed to imbibe any of _that_ particular concoction… and decides it's probably safer if they never find out.

He himself has been wandering for a little while, ever since Cecil and Kevin went off to find out what their respective sisters were doing (concerned, no doubt, about the dangers of those two teaming up). He spends some time engaged in a rather in-depth conversation with Larry Leroy, Lawrence Lavene and Trish Hidge about various television shows, which starts out reasonably safe but degenerates into, "What do you mean, _'fictional'?_ _Twin Peaks_ was a _documentary!_ "

And before _that_ can get any worse, Carlos decides yet more punch is needed.

On his way back to the table where said punch is located, he's intercepted by his boyfriends. They step in either side of him, each draping an arm around his shoulders, and OK, wow, that's nice…

He beams at them. "Well, hello, my dear enantiomers," he greets them, brightly.

Cecil and Kevin exchange a look. "You called us that once before," Kevin says, putting a very flirtatious hand on Carlos' chest. "But we were… well, _busy_ at the time, so I didn't get to ask: what's it mean?"

" _Enantiomers_ ," Carlos repeats, deliberately slowly, just to see which of them looks more turned on (and finding it hard to judge). "You remember how I said you were chiral? Mirror-images but not the same? Well, two things that are chiral are called 'enantiomers'. So that's you. _My dear enantiomers_ …"

Oh, he is definitely drunk, isn't he?

"I _see_ ," Cecil replies. "That makes more sense."

"It's a lovely word," Kevin adds. "You should say it again."

"Enantiomers. _Enantiomers_. Although…" Carlos can't quite help a giggle. "…Sometimes people call them 'enantiomorphs' instead, and that's OK too, but those sound like something Sparks Nevada would fight. So I always stick with… _enantiomers_ …"

"Mmmm," Cecil murmurs. "You know what I think? I think we should take this discussion somewhere more… private. Don't you agree, Kevin?"

"Oh, definitely," Kevin says, managing what is obviously meant as a sensible nod. "Perhaps that lovely little lab you've constructed over here…"

Carlos agrees wholeheartedly. _Wholeheartedly_. And he's just about to say as much when Steve comes hurrying over, looking extremely alarmed.

"What did your demon do this time, _Steve?_ " Cecil says at once, seeming thoroughly unimpressed by the interruption.

"My demon?" Steve repeats. " _My_ demon? This has nothing to do with my demon! Oh no, this is entirely the fault of the new CEO of Strexcorp! I should have _known_ all that power would go to her head!"

"Naomi?" Kevin says, looking perplexed. "What happened?"

But before Steve can answer, they all hear Naomi shout, " _Who's up for karaoke?!_ " from across the room.

"Oh _no_ ," Cecil breathes.

"Oh _yes_ ," Kevin says.

"Oh _help_ ," Carlos manages.

"You _see?!_ " Steve declares, vindicated.

Apparently it's going to be an interesting night.

***

Carlos comes to.

Normally he would describe this process as 'waking up' but right now… 'comes to' seems more appropriate. He's lying face-down in bed with one of his boyfriends curled up next to him and the other half-draped on top of him, although it's impossible to decide which is which without further clues. It takes a few moments before he realises that the thumping sound he can hear is not someone trying to assemble flat-pack furniture in the next room and is, in fact, just the inside of his own head.

"Please kill me," he murmurs, into the pillow. "I mean it this time."

"Seconded," mumbles the boyfriend curled up at his side, whose voice reveals him to be Cecil. "Whose idea was the punch?"

Kevin makes an incoherent little sound but steadfastly refuses to answer in any more depth.

They lie in silence for a few more minutes. It is not comfortable silence on account of the inside-of-head thumping, but it is at least motionless, _silent_ silence. Whilst they do, Carlos finds a series of images starting to insist upon his conscious mind and, eventually, he's left with no choice but to say, "…OK, I need to ask you both something."

Kevin makes that incoherent sound again. After a pause, Cecil finally concedes with a soft, "…go on."

"I have some images in my head and I need to know which ones are memories and which ones are solely – and mercifully – the product of my own warped subconscious. And I've been here long enough to know that the mere application of logic is not going to be sufficient."

"…Go on…" Cecil says again, but a little more high-pitched, as if he's worried by what's about to come.

He has every right to be.

Carlos pauses a moment before he speaks. "So… the karaoke thing..?"

"…Real," Cecil tells him. "Naomi and Darla were _quite_ insistent."

"And… did they make the lights rain _fish_ to persuade us?"

"…No. That one you've dreamt. They just gave us more punch."

"Oh." It's hard to know whether this is better or worse than the fish thing. "So… um… just break it to me gently… did Kevin actually sing _'My Heart Will Go On'?_ "

"Uh… no, you've dreamt that too."

"Oh. That's a relief."

"…It wasn't _'My Heart Will Go On'_."

Slow, deep breaths. Brace for mental impact. Try very hard to will all of reality out of existence.

"…It was _'Toxic'_."

"…Kill me?" Carlos tries again.

"…You said I was very good!" Kevin finally chips in, prodding Carlos lightly in the back and sounding faux-affronted. "And then you said something about warning labels and an incident involving… involving… something with too many syllables, and then… then stuff…"

"I wonder what your listeners would think if they saw you this incoherent?" Carlos muses, just to wind them both up a little.

Kevin rolls onto his back. "They'd think we were still adorable," he insists. "And then they'd think they should all be quiet because ow…" He pulls one of the pillows over his head and doesn't move. "Naomi should just be thankful I like her so much," he adds, now somewhat muffled.

"OK," Carlos says, softly. "OK. So… what about the part where Frederick challenged me to a duel?"

"You've dreamt that too," Cecil reassures him. "Although Frederick _did_ wake up and wander back in at some point, arm in arm with a tall, winged being in a labcoat who looked a lot like him and who was absolutely not an angel but _was_ called Erika…"

" _Besides_ ," Kevin interrupts, lifting the pillow to speak more clearly, "I think we all need to remember the song that _you_ sang."

Carlos goes very still, hoping against hope that Kevin is talking to Cecil. "…That Cecil sang?" he tries, desperately.

"Oh no," Kevin replies, sounding rather delighted now. "That _you_ sang."

"…Oh?" Carlos manages, a good octave higher than usual.

"I must say, I've never heard that one before," Kevin goes on. "I don't know what it's called, but it certainly was entertaining. Especially when it turned out to be a duet and Frederick came to join in."

Carlos finds a pillow to pull over _his_ head and stays there. "What was it?" he mumbles.

"Well, like I say, I've never heard it before," Kevin reminds him. "But it was all about thermodynamics and you were _very_ into it."

The only safe option now is to refuse to dignify this with an answer. Carlos decides to keep hiding under his pillow, just for good measure.

"It was sort of adorable, though," Cecil says, after a moment.

"That doesn't help!" Carlos insists.

Kevin curls in closer again, then slips a hand under the pillow and starts gently stroking the back of Carlos' neck. It's really very nice, and after a moment he relents and emerges (albeit slow enough that Kevin doesn't have to stop).

There's an odd silence, which is different from all the preceding silences in a way that can neither be quantified nor denied.

"…We won, didn't we?" Carlos says, quietly.

"Yeah," Kevin answers. "Yeah, I think we did."

"We didn't just win," Cecil adds. "We… put it all right. As much as it ever can be."

"What happens now?" Carlos asks.

"I want to stay here at least a few more days," Kevin answers. "The two of you–"

"…Have no more intention of leaving you than we did at the start of this," Cecil interrupts, gently.

Even though Carlos can't see Kevin's face, on account of the part where he's lying on his stomach with Kevin resting against his back, he can still _feel_ the other man smile.

"Besides," Cecil goes on, "we've come this far. If we can survive a full-on attack by Strexcorp and a sojourn in the Otherworld Desert, I'm sure we can survive a little post-revolutionary bureaucracy."

"Oh, Cecil, Cecil," Kevin purrs, reaching over Carlos to pat his double on the arm, "I'll get you a bladed weapon of some kind. It'll help. Though… huh. Hmmm. I wonder if we can do some of the bureaucracy _without_ those now…"

"Let's hope so!" Cecil exclaims.

Either way, Carlos can't help feeling that it's going to be an interesting few days.

"We should probably go find out who else is still alive," Kevin adds, more brightly than he has any right to. "Plus, assuming Naomi survived her own turn at karaoke, we can probably count on there being a vast amount of breakfast in our immediate futures."

"…There is that," Cecil concedes.

Kevin pats him on the arm again. "You see! I said you'd like it here really…"

***

Naomi, it soon turns out, did indeed survive, although – by all accounts – just barely. When they find her, she's midway through making breakfast whilst drinking something that she will only describe as a 'don't ask', but which looks to contain several hangover cures combined into one.

It also glows faintly blue. Carlos is careful not to question this either.

Rather more alarming is the fact that Darla keeps trying to slip the phrase 'I'm A Believer' into idle conversation, eventually prompting Naomi to threaten to chase her out of the kitchen with a spatula. This is less effective than Naomi clearly hopes, although Darla can't be quite as bad as she clearly wants to be because Naomi still has Ozhen'ipleth curled on her shoulder, hissing at people who come too close.

Though it doesn't stop Darla giving a tuneful (and loud), "Oooooh-ooooh!" as she flounces out of the kitchen.

"She has such a pretty voice," says Fey, wandering in just as Darla has made her hasty exit. "So many notes and words, like little stars all in a row…"

She takes a seat at the table and stares across at the three of them, as they make a start on the coffee that Kevin has just come back with.

"You look… tired," she remarks.

Cecil manages a wry little look. "We had an interesting night."

"Interesting, yes," Fey agrees, lingering over the word as if considering what it really means. "Steve said the same thing. Then he said he wanted to come and sing you a song except he couldn't because his head feels like it needs to be de-fragged, and I said that was weird because his head isn't a computer and he said… he said it still _felt_ as though it needed it. So I sang _him_ a song instead and he said it was nice, only he had a strange sort of face when he said it, sort of like…"

And Fey attempts an impression of Steve's favourite pained expression. It's better than Carlos might have expected in advance, and gets a laugh from Cecil.

"And _then_ I asked him what song he wanted to sing you in case it was one that _I_ could sing," Fey goes on, now looking a mixture of wistful and confused. "And he said it was called 'Video Killed The Radio Star' and then he went very pink and tried to hide. And I said that sounded mean but Steve promised it wasn't literal, and then he said I shouldn't tell you, but then I did anyway because I wondered if it would make _you_ go very pink and… oh! Look! It did!"

Or, it's certainly made _Cecil_ go very pink, and try to hide behind his coffee cup.

" _Oh!_ " Kevin exclaims. "Yes! I've been trying to remember all morning! _That's_ what you sang, Cecil! And… you did it as a duet. With Steve!"

Cecil puts his cup down and covers his face with both hands. "I really hoped no one would remember," he murmurs, somewhat pointedly.

"I remember!" Fey tells him, pleasantly. "I remember lots of things."

Carlos decides he'd better rescue Cecil before Kevin decides to take advantage of him. "What about you, Fey?" he asks. "My memories of last night are a little… hazy. Did you join in the impromptu singing?"

"Oh yes!" Fey exclaims. "I did! The air was full of light and colours and numbers and it was so pretty, like little quantum butterflies fluttering overhead, and then I remembered a song from a long time ago so I decided to sing it."

"What was the song?"

"'Going Underground'."

"That's an interesting choice. What made you think of that one?"

Fey gives a little shrug. "Foreshadowing," she answers.

But before Carlos can question this, Steve hurries into the kitchen, stopping dead when he sees that Fey is already here, and that Cecil has his head in his hands.

"…Oh no," he breathes. "Oh _no_. You… know, don't you?"

"Yes, Steve," Cecil murmurs, still not looking up. "We know."

Kevin sits back, clapping his hands together. "And we were so _hoping_ for an encore!"

Apparently their interesting night is about to be followed by an interesting morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Carlos and Frederick sing is ['First and Second Law'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VnbiVw_1FNs) by Flanders & Swann (on that link, the song itself kicks in at about 2:05).
> 
> You can never have too many songs about thermodynamics!


	27. Science and Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the grand finale! :-)
> 
> In celebration, allow me to share this _awesome_ piece of art drawn by [Rosiethero](http://rosiethero.tumblr.com/), under [commission](http://artofthero.tumblr.com/post/104020595543/night-vale-commission-for-davechicken-btw-if) from my dear Davechicken, as a present to me. Because OMG I LOVE IT.

_You won't find faith or hope down a telescope_  
 _You won't find heart and soul in the stars_  
 _You can break everything down to chemicals_  
 _But you can't explain a love like ours_

~ The Script: _'Science & Faith'_

***

The perils of morning-after breakfast aside, the next few days go surprisingly well. With Strexcorp now safely under Naomi's control, and its demonic influence all but gone, Desert Bluffs itself seems to be waking up. By the second morning, the blood has vanished entirely and the populace starts to become more… well. 'Normal' is a fairly loaded term around here, but whatever it means by local standards, they're that.

In her last act before severing Strexcorp's power over the city, Naomi Hartley names Hiram McDaniels as mayor, which is a decision remarkably well-received by the people. Carlos supposes he shouldn't be surprised by this, given that they've been ruled by _demons_ for more than half a century. In comparison, a five-headed dragon must seem so…

…well, _normal_.

The Night Valean contingent gradually filters home, some going back fairly quickly, and others taking their time. Larry Leroy in particular seems in no rush to go and is soon trying to help his double set up an inter-city bowling league, which pleases Cecil to no end.

Kevin takes Kirsten and Gillian home on the second day. It's strange to think that all this started out as solely a rescue mission, and an odd sense of completion accompanies the whole affair. Plus, it's good to finally see the two of them get to return to some kind of normalcy, even though it really doesn't apply anymore, given that Kirsten now has a blossoming friendship with her double and Gillian has been partly-unmasked as a teenage superhacker.

But. Still. It's good. And whatever the new 'normal' is going to be, it starts to set in, until the formerly 'insane town drenched in blood' looks – and feels – quite different.

And that makes it all worth it, as if anything else actually needed to.

On the evening of the third night after the victory party, Carlos finds himself sitting on the front steps of Naomi's house, staring out at Desert Bluffs. The lack of blood means he can do this now, and it also means that the cityscape glitters golden as the very natural sun very naturally sets.

They're going home tomorrow. With everything having calmed down at last, it seems as though all of this is finally over.

And that's a strange feeling. A good one, oh yes, but a strange one. Almost everyone else has already left, and now only the original five remain: Cecil, Carlos and Kevin, as well as Steve and Frederick. It seemed appropriate somehow – even Steve opted to stay until the end, despite Caitlin and Janice going home a day sooner, and Carlos knows Cecil is grateful for this, even if he won't ever tell Steve as much. Tonight, they're having one last, quiet evening with Naomi and Darla, and then…

Well. Then it's over.

The door behind Carlos opens, and Cecil and Kevin step out.

"There you are," Cecil says.

"Here I am," Carlos replies. "Join me?"

They do: Kevin sitting beside him and Cecil settling on Kevin's other side, so he's in the middle.

"I still can't quite believe we got this far," Kevin says, after a moment, head on Cecil's shoulder and arm around Carlos' waist.

"I know," Cecil agrees. "But we did. Hard to imagine it's been little more than two weeks, though."

"Time doesn't exist," Carlos reminds them, gently.

They sit in very comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"I'm looking forward to going home, though," Kevin adds, at last.

Carlos glances sideways at him. "…Isn't _this_ home?" he asks.

"Yes and no," Kevin answers, softly. "I mean… it's my home _town_ , and it always will be. You're always _from_ where you're from, after all. But _home_ … is where the two of you are."

It's hard not to get a little choked up by this. Cecil pulls Kevin in closer, and Carlos curls up against him.

"Besides," Kevin goes on, "now I'm free to come back here whenever I want, and I fully intend to do so on a regular basis: to see Kirsten and Gillian, or this crazy pair," he adds, headtilting back at Naomi and Darla's house. "And after that insane day with the weather balloons, I'm confident I owe Ted a few games of bowling as a minimum."

Cecil smiles. "I think you may be the first true resident of the Greater Metropolitan Area," he muses.

Kevin smiles too. "The first of many," he says.

They sit quietly for another moment, watching the sun sink below the horizon, letting Desert Bluffs drift into the cool embrace of night.

"We should head inside," Carlos points out, finally. "It must be nearly time for Naomi's big final dinner. Although… does anyone else think it would be more appropriate if it was breakfast?"

The general consensus is that it would.

***

"I still can't thank you enough," Naomi is saying, as they all settle in the living room with a glass of something sedate and non-karaoke-inducing. "I don't know how we would have done this without the five of you."

"All in all, it really was a lot of fun," Frederick remarks, which gets him a very odd look from everyone except Darla.

"There is something very wrong with you," Carlos tells him, pointedly.

"There's nothing wrong with me," Frederick insists. "I'm perfectly normal. I should tell you, though, I'm not coming straight home with the rest of you tomorrow."

This is news to Carlos. "You're not?"

"No. I'll head back in another day or so, but first I promised Roderick I'd look in on his parents. Tell them how he ascended and how he's an angel now…"

"Angels don't exist!" Cecil interjects.

Frederick gives him a flat look. "Cecil, we've had dealings with _three_ of them in the last _week_."

"That doesn't make them any more existent!"

Even Frederick seems to accept that it's better not to argue. "Well… anyway, I'm going to meet Roderick's parents, and then I might go introduce myself to some of the Desert Bluffs scientists," he continues. "I was thinking of establishing ties between the scientific communities here and back home."

"Actually, that's a good idea," Carlos replies. "We should try to arrange a joint symposium a few months down the line. Get everyone together."

Yes. Oh yes, that sounds like fun. Plus, then there would be _science_ as opposed to world-ending insanities, and that would be a pleasant change.

There's an odd little silence.

"I mean it, though," Naomi goes on. "Because of all of you, my hometown is safe and my family's terrible legacy is at an end. And for that, you will _always_ have my gratitude. Although, the next time we get together… let's maybe go for more of a movie-night theme and less of a number-prophecy-driven apocalypse."

"Seconded," Kevin says. "I mean, the apocalypse thing has its moments, but I think I've had enough of it for now. Although, I've got to admit, I will miss all those weird little poems Fey kept coming out with. They were fun!"

"One of them wasn't quite right, though," Carlos chips in, remembering something that actually made him wake up in confusion two nights ago.

"Oh?" Kevin replies.

"Yeah. I was thinking about the very last one," Carlos explains, "and working out what each part had meant, and there was a line that didn't make sense. It was _'Six will rise to seal the deal, borne aloft by five to see'_ ," he quotes. "And that's obviously talking about the part when Hiram carried that van up to the tower with us inside it."

"Yes," Kevin agrees. "So… what's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with that?" Carlos repeats. "There were only five of us in the van. You, me, Cecil, Naomi and Darla."

"Oh, you're right," Darla agrees. "But I can't think of anything else the line might have been referring to."

"Uh… but there _were_ six of us," Kevin interjects.

Everyone stares at him.

"…There were?" Cecil says.

Kevin nods. "Yes. You, me, Carlos, Naomi, Darla, and the Faceless Old Woman."

Carlos feels suddenly a little cold. "She was there too?" he starts out, and then stops and stares some more. "Wait a moment. If she was there, she never spoke. So… how do you know?"

Now Kevin shrugs. "Because I can see her."

"…You can _see_ the Faceless Old Woman?" Steve exclaims.

"Sure I can," Kevin answers, very calmly. "It was a while before I realised no one else could, not even Hiram. But I've always been able to see her. Sometimes I see her flitting about in Night Vale, although not often, because… well, she's everywhere, so she's harder to spot than you might think. When she came here, though, I saw her a lot more."

Everyone is still staring. "You can _see_ the _Faceless Old Woman?!_ " Cecil now says, echoing Steve.

"Yes," Kevin says. "And she was with us, in the van. She followed us from the edge of the plaza, after Hiram came up with the idea. I guess she didn't want anyone to know she was there, and I figured that was her choice so I didn't say anything."

"What did she do?" Cecil asks, voice a little shaky.

Kevin shrugs. "She just sat and watched. After the van got thrown through that window, she climbed out after us, but she headed off in a different direction. And I didn't really think about where she could have been going because I was distracted by where _we_ were going. But… yes. The prophecy wasn't wrong. There _were_ six of us."

"…Is anyone else really unsettled now?" Steve says.

The general consensus is that they are. Even Cecil seems too rattled to do anything other than agree with Steve.

"Huh," Frederick murmurs. "That really is weird. You would think it would have been relevant at some point, though."

"Maybe it just hasn't been relevant _yet_ ," Steve suggests.

It's hard to know how to respond to this.

" _Well_ ," Naomi says, before they can dwell on it all too much, "for now… let's just enjoy one quiet night before you all go off and leave me with my beautiful maniac and whatever she's got down in the basement."

"Oh, you love it really, Nay," Darla replies, patting her wife on the arm.

"Movie night?" Kevin suggests, brightly.

"Sure," Naomi agrees, with a pointed look at Darla. "Any suggestions?"

Cecil suddenly has a rather wicked grin. " _'The Notebook'?_ " he says.

Kevin gives his double a very flat look. "No, Cecil."

***

In the end, they opt for something safer. When they're done, Frederick announces that he's not quite ready to sleep, and that he's going to do a little science in the remains of the makeshift lab, at least until he feels more tired.

Given the very real risk that whatever he's doing might involve the death ray mark two, Carlos decides it would be safer if _he_ went to do some science as well, just so that he can keep an eye on the man.

But there is another factor in play here, and it's entirely to do with Cecil and Kevin. Carlos knows they're up to something.

He can tell by the flicker in their eyes, when they ask if he's coming to bed and he says he wants to do a little more science first. It's almost as though they were _hoping_ he might be delayed.

On account of how they're up to something.

However, he _likes_ the idea of them being up to something, so he doesn't comment too much. Or argue. He just gives them both a kiss and lets them 'go off to bed', and promises not to take too long. And that… is suddenly not a problem, as concentration rapidly becomes quite an issue.

So he makes his excuses to Frederick and heads off.

When he gets back to the room, the other two are lying on the bed, half-tangled in each other, and… OK, are they actually asleep? They look asleep.

Odd. He was _convinced_ they were plotting something.

Well. Maybe – whatever it is – they're not ready to do it yet.

He ducks into the en suite for a few moments, and when he emerges – dressed in his pyjama trousers – he's a little surprised to find the other two now both sitting up in bed, watching him.

Waiting for him.

They _are_ up to something.

"Come here, you," Cecil says, with a smile, reaching out to pull Carlos onto the bed with them – between them – and he settles happily on his back with a chiral double on either side.

And, oh now, that's really very lovely.

It's Kevin who kisses him first, firm and deep and possessive, meaning Carlos is somewhat breathless as Kevin pulls back and lets Cecil lean in to capture Carlos' lips instead. Cecil kisses softer, slower, but there's just as much possession in it, and Carlos is even more breathless as the second kiss breaks.

"Mmmm," he murmurs, eyes flicking between them and feeling suddenly – deliciously – like he's just walked into a trap. "That felt good."

The doubles exchange a look, with an underlying flicker of… _something_ … to it. And then they take hold of his hands – one each – pulling them out above his head, so his arms are spread, and pinning him down.

And that… oh, that does wonderful things to his thought processes, making his breath catch and his heart start to race with anticipation. It's nigh-on impossible to stop it. The last time they both held him like this… well, that was pretty much the best sex he's ever had. Especially if you extend the experience to include the part with the knife…

Kevin kisses him again, over and over until Carlos is almost whimpering with need, tugging a little on his wrists just to make the other two work to hold him still.

Just to test how much they want this. Clearly as much as he does, judging by the way they hardly let him move at all. And whilst he's confident of Kevin's intent, it's all kinds of wonderful to know that Cecil is thinking along the same lines. Because… Carlos had worried that maybe he wouldn't.

Carlos has a habit of doing that. He really needs to stop.

As Kevin breaks the kiss, Cecil reaches out with his free hand to stroke over Carlos' cheek, turning his head and leaning in to kiss him instead… though not before exchanging another of those odd looks with Kevin.

Carlos wonders what it means. Wonders… but is soon caught up in all the kissing. The lovely, lovely kissing. The feel of Cecil's lips and the warmth of his touch, and it's all so very…

… _distracting_ …

Carlos processes the distant clank of metal, seconds before something cold and firm snaps closed around his left wrist. The contact makes him jump; makes him break the kiss and stare over at Kevin as he realises that the man has _just handcuffed him to the headboard..!_

Before his mind can engage with this enough to get a word out, there's a matching clank and snap from his right side, and by the time Carlos turns to look, he's already too late, because _Cecil_ has just handcuffed his _other_ wrist to the headboard as well.

The adrenaline kick is almost overwhelming. His arms are pulled wide above his head and he's _handcuffed to the bed!_

Cecil kisses him. Kisses him _hard_ , and… aside from being extremely lovely, it's also helpful in that it pushes the panic right down. Makes him relax. Makes him take a breath, when the kiss breaks, and try not to lose his composure too catastrophically.

Because… because. They'd never hurt him. He knows that. So this… this would be the other thing, and from the co-ordination, they've evidently taken the time to swap notes and…

… _Oh_.

"Just relax, now," Kevin breathes in his ear, in that low, deadly voice that makes Carlos want to flat-out beg him for mercy. Or… or not mercy. "You're not going anywhere, and I think you know it now, don't you? But don't worry. If you want us to stop – _really_ want us to stop – all you have to do is say the word."

"But you _don't_ want us to stop, do you?" Cecil breathes in his other ear, and, OK, where did the man get _that_ tone from, because he sounds just like…

…oh dear…

Suddenly hyper-sensitive beneath their touch, Carlos manages to turn his head, looking up at his left wrist, encircled by glinting metal; the other end closed around the outermost bar on the headboard. He turns his head the opposite way and finds the same sight in reverse on his right, holding him here. Holding him down.

Holding him for them.

Oddly, the first words he manages are, "…Where did you get two pairs of handcuffs at short notice?"

Kevin laughs. "Naomi usually has quite a number of enforcers in her personal employ, and she needs them well-equipped," he answers. "I merely… availed myself of an open storage closet. And as a result… now we have you _completely_ at our mercy…"

Carlos is about to reply that they've had him at their mercy before… but, the truth is, it seems so very much more real when he can feel that cold metal holding him down. When he knows he's caught, even without a single hand on him.

His heart is still racing, and, on so many levels, he wants to speak. Beg. Plead. Anything. Wants… wants to cry out for mercy, suddenly so scared by what it will mean if he _doesn't_. But if he asks… he knows they'll stop. Knows they'd never do anything he didn't actually want.

And he does want. He wants _badly_. On some level he has done for a long time, but he hadn't fully processed it until… until the night after they first got here. The night he let Kevin trace that blade over his skin whilst Cecil watched. The night he gave in to them so completely that he temporarily lost the ability to construct sentences.

The night he finally understood what he'd been looking for.

" _Please_ ," he whispers. "I… I'll do anything…"

And he means it. He means it, because he knows they'd never ask for anything he couldn't give… and because anything they did ask for, he'd give them without question.

This is what trust is. And it's important in any relationship… but especially a relationship involving three people, one of whom is the sometimes-murderous and formerly-evil double of a second.

And a third of whom finds this unashamedly, undeniably hot.

Slowly, slowly, Carlos starts to relax.

"We know," Cecil tells him. "We know. And, for the moment, all you need to do is understand that, on so many levels, _we have you_ …"

The man's voice is intoxicating at the least of times. Right now it's so intense that Carlos is rapidly losing the ability to focus. And it's only when Kevin moves all of a sudden that Carlos realises they've been distracting him again. The other man nudges his head up, the gesture seemingly innocuous, and then promptly slips a strip of dark fabric over his eyes, wrapping it under and tying it in place.

Blindfolding him.

His adrenaline levels go back through the roof. " _Please!_ " Carlos cries out, in shock more than anything else. "I won't… I'm yours… both of yours… I promise, I promise…"

"Shhhh," Kevin murmurs in his ear, fingertips tracing down his neck and over his bare chest. "It's all right. You're safe with us. Just relax…"

 _Relax. Relax. Tell me everything. Believe in a Smiling God. It will all be OK_. Because… because that's the tone of voice Kevin is using. The same one he used the morning they first arrived in Desert Bluffs, when the Bloodstone still had him in its power. The voice that promised warmth and safety and surety if Carlos just gave in… and blood and pain and fear if he didn't.

And, damn it all to the deepest depths of the furthest Infernal Plane, Carlos is getting off on it.

Again.

The other two are still lying on either side of him, fingertips occasionally tracing over his skin but little more, and for a moment Carlos just lets those light touches lull him under. He can't look at them; can't do anything but sink into the blackness, and yet with every breath he knows more and more that he's safe. Utterly doomed, yes, because the two of them together are wickedness incarnate and they have _clearly_ plotted all this… but still safe.

"That's it," Cecil says, somehow managing to echo that terrifyingly wonderful edge to Kevin's tone. "That's it. Let go. Give in. We have you."

"Now," Kevin goes on, "we couldn't help noticing how much you like listening to us. You're not exactly subtle about it. So… we thought we'd give you a lovely opportunity to do just that. You can't move, you can't see… but you can listen, dear Carlos. Dear _listener_."

His tone is enough to make the unseen world go sideways. His _words_ make it go the full one-eighty.

"I… I…" Carlos tries, but the words won't actualise.

"Shhhh," Cecil says. "You don't have to speak. You only have to listen. You've always liked that, haven't you? Listening to us build whole worlds with nothing but our voices? Well… let us create one for you and – if you play this right – it might become a reality. Or it might just remain a beautiful dream…"

Carlos tries – and fails – to suppress a shiver of delight, and then nods.

"Good," Kevin tells him. "Because this story starts right here, Carlos. It's a story about you… and about us. The _prequel_ to this story would have to involve the part about you letting yourself be lured into bed knowing _full-well_ that we were up to something… but then, you liked that too. Of course you did. You've wanted this a lot longer than you realise, and we were only too happy to oblige. We've been planning this for days, after all…"

"Though as to how far this story goes… well, that's not entirely clear just yet," Cecil continues. "Few stories can be seen all the way from beginning to end, unless the storyteller is crazy-prepared with too much time on their hands. But for now… it starts with fingertips ghosting over your skin, again and again, whilst words slip into your mind. You have to listen. You _want_ to listen. You've _always_ wanted to listen…"

And this is very true. Of course, Carlos _also_ wants to surge up and kiss them and tell them both how wonderful they are… but a tug on both arms reminds him that he's held firm, and it's the kind of reminder that knocks all the air from his lungs. Slowly, slowly, he tries to will himself to relax. It isn't easy. Knowing he's safe is one thing, but it doesn't change the _apprehension_.

Apprehension. Hope. _Need_. Strange how similar those can feel, under the right circumstances.

"Now," Kevin goes on, his words spoken soft and level, close to Carlos' ear, "seeing as you are rather a _captive_ audience, we thought perhaps we'd give you something _special_ to listen to. Something to drive you right out of that brilliant mind of yours…"

"And we know you'll love it," Cecil adds. "We know you love how _chiral_ we are; similar and different all at once…"

That makes the unseen world tip over backwards once again, the weight and the promise of the words ratcheting everything up all the more, and doubly-so (pun probably intended) because Carlos can never get enough of them quoting science terminology at him.

But he's taken a little by surprise as, all of a sudden, the men either side of him move back, nigh-on breaking contact entirely. Carlos can't see them, so he has no idea what they're doing, although he can of course hear… and by the _sound_ of it, the other two are slipping their pyjama trousers off and…

 _...Oh_.

Carlos feels Cecil and Kevin kneel in close to each other, either side of him, and judging by the soft, breathy gasps, they're kissing. A _lot_. For a moment, Carlos is struck by the need to be watching, but then he relaxes, accepts and… listens.

And it's quite a thing to listen to. Unable to see, Carlos imagines what the two of them must look like, arms wrapped around each other, kissing over and over like a beautifully recursive mirror, interspersed with flickers of difference that give away their true nature.

…Oh, he's going to have to write another paper. Even if he can only ever read it to them. And even if nothing could ever quite explain how wonderful this is. How wonderful they are.

Adrift on such lovely thoughts and images, Carlos is jolted back to reality as Kevin suddenly gasps, "Oh _Cecil_ ," in a _very_ enthusiastic tone of voice and, given the way he can feel that the other two have moved in even closer, Carlos is confident that Cecil must now have a hand between his double's legs, stroking him slowly, firmly, and…

"…Yes, yes, like that, don't stop…"

Well, Kevin clearly approves. Carlos can hear the soft sounds of skin on skin, the caught breaths, even a soft whimper that ratchets his own need up all the more. But… he can drift on it, imagining a sight that he's confident is very close to the truth.

"… _Kevin_ …"

…OK, they've clearly switched. They're doing this to him deliberately.

And that only makes it all the more wonderful.

"… _Please_ ," Carlos hears himself gasp, the word slipping out unbidden, and laden with all the need wound up inside.

The other two pause – judging by the way the sounds go quiet – and he imagines they're both looking at him.

"You like that?" Cecil asks, softly.

" _Yes_ ," Carlos replies, tone full of fervour.

"We knew you would," Kevin says. "Because we know _you_ , through and through."

They do. They really do. On some level, it used to scare him more than a little, but it doesn't anymore. Now… it makes him feel amazing. Safe. Wanted. _Loved_. Like… a conjecture with perfect proof.

Sigma. Sum of. This. Them. _Everything_.

Carlos can hear the other two kissing again for a moment, and then all of a sudden they move apart, lying down on either side of him once more. Fingertips trail gently over his skin, across his chest, until they're both toying with a nipple each, the touches so light and slow and yet sending sparks of sensation racing through him.

" _Please_ ," he gasps, without even thinking about it. "I need you. _I need you_."

"We know," Kevin murmurs in his ear. "Oh, we know. But this story is just getting started. Right, Cecil?"

"Oh, _definitely_ ," Cecil agrees, close to Carlos' other ear. "I think it might be about to get rather more involved, though…"

"I'd like that," Carlos replies, aware he sounds more than slightly desperate. "I'd like that a _lot_."

"Would you, now?" Kevin remarks, with that soft little laugh that makes Carlos sink even deeper into the black. "Well, then. Here's some plot development for you…"

Both of them quickly tug his pyjama trousers off, tossing them aside and then pushing a hand between his legs, starting to stroke him slowly, firmly. Carlos arches up without a second thought, rocking his head back and gasping in appreciation. And not being able to see, or move very much, somehow makes the sensation all the more intense, as if there's some kind of causal disconnect and he's just _experiencing_ as opposed to anything more complex.

" _Yes_ ," he manages. "Please. _Please_."

Somehow, he can tell the other two are exchanging a look. Something about the way he can feel their subtle movement, the shift in their breath, and he just… knows. Even though he can't work out what that look might mean.

After a moment, Kevin lets go and moves a little to the side, whilst Cecil keeps on stroking him, and though Carlos vaguely wonders what Kevin is doing, he's far too occupied by what _Cecil_ is doing to pay it any real thought, and even the awareness that this is probably the point doesn't actually make a difference.

Besides, whatever it is, he knows he'll love it.

He eventually realises, after catching the sound of a familiar snap, that Kevin must have reached for the lubricant, and he's proven right seconds later when – with Cecil still stroking him – Kevin slowly pushes a finger into him, and the unseen world goes sideways all over again. Carlos tries to voice his approval, but coherence appears to have taken a back seat for the moment because all he manages is a desperate, if appreciative cry.

"We thought you'd like that," Cecil breathes in his ear. "We know you so well, don't we?"

Carlos tries to say something along the line of 'oh merciful Einstein _yes_ ', but it all ends up as another incoherent, highly approving murmur, which cranks up an octave when Kevin opts to slip in a second finger alongside the first.

And Carlos is lost. Completely, gloriously, wonderfully lost, and all the more so when Cecil and Kevin both start kissing his neck at the same time as everything else, leaving him completely overwhelmed with sensation and utterly adoring every single nanosecond of it.

Time. Who needs weird, unreal time when you can have _this?_

"I love you," Carlos manages, at last. "I love you both so much."

"We know," Kevin murmurs, against his skin.

"We love you too," Cecil concurs.

"And you'd do anything for us, wouldn't you?" Kevin asks, the question laden with intent.

" _Yes_ ," Carlos answers, without hesitating, aware on some level that he's not in the least bit alarmed by what he's clearly just walked into. " _Anything_."

"Good," Cecil replies. "All we have to ask is one thing…"

"… _don't come_ ," Kevin continues. "No matter what we do. Not until we say you can…"

That sends a thrill of renewed anticipation racing through Carlos, mixed with more than a little alarm. It isn't exactly the easiest request in the world, after all, given how close to the edge he feels already.

But he said anything, and he meant anything, and he trusts them even more than he trusts thermodynamics.

And he trusts thermodynamics a _lot_.

Carlos doesn't quite trust himself to speak, however, so he nods fervently, which gets him kissed by both of them, one after the other, leaving him breathless all over again.

Then they move, Cecil staying at his side but moving his hand to start teasing at Carlos' nipples again, and Kevin slipping between his legs, starting to slowly push into him. It's so damnably amazing that Carlos can't help crying out, tugging a little on his wrists without even thinking about it and feeling all the air knocked from his lungs at the sensation _that_ provokes.

He's _theirs_. And that is wonderful and terrifying and perfect in equal measure.

" _Yes_ ," he cries, tone already bordering on rapture. "Yes… you feel incredible…"

"So do you," Kevin purrs in his ear.

"You both _look_ incredible," Cecil adds, leaning in to kiss first Kevin, then Carlos, before going back to paying _far_ too much attention to Carlos' nipples.

How he's going to hold on like this, he doesn't know. Only that he is. For them.

Kevin is moving faster now, starting to chase his own release, and at first Carlos feels like he's going to come just from that intensity alone, but then… he lets go. It isn't a conscious choice – if it was, he's sure he would have made it long ago – but instead it's as though something fundamental has just surrendered inside.

And though he knows he's close to the edge, knows it would take so little to push him over… he doesn't tumble. He drifts on the slow waves of sensation, aware of the soft, teasing kisses from Cecil, the feeling of Kevin deep inside him, and just lets himself experience it. Luxuriate in it. Sink beneath it, until the surface is a distant memory and he's adrift in perfect darkness.

And it is. Perfect.

It isn't long before Kevin's climax hits, and he's burying his face in the crook of Carlos' neck, crying out in release and love, gradually fading down to soft murmurs and tiny kisses as the pleasure breaks and then fades back, until the other man is curled against him, catching his breath.

" _Oh_ ," Carlos manages, but it's the only word he can get out. And there's a lot – a _lot_ – summed up in that single syllable.

After a moment, Kevin finally lifts his head, pushing up to kiss Carlos deeply, hands all over him, before leaning to kiss Cecil too, which gets all kinds of approving sounds from the pair of them. And then Kevin pulls back, tugging Cecil upright as well and kissing him some more, murmuring in happiness in between.

"Now I get to watch…" he says, lying down on Carlos' other side whilst Cecil moves in between his legs. There's the snap of the lubricant bottle once more, and then Cecil starts pushing into him, making Carlos' mind go sky-high all over again.

" _Carlos_ ," Cecil breathes, before kissing him and kissing him until they both have no choice but to break for oxygen.

"Merciless Azatothoth, you look amazing together," Kevin says, toying with one of Carlos' nipples as he does. And that's deliciously wonderful, but not half as wonderful as the moment when Cecil grasps Kevin's hand, locking their fingers together and pressing both of their hands over Carlos' heart.

"I love you," Cecil says. "Both of you. More than I could ever put into words."

But Carlos knows, and he knows Kevin does too. They all do.

This doesn't mean Kevin is above being a little bit wicked, though. He's _always_ got time to be a little bit wicked. And Carlos imagines the two of them exchanging one of those mysterious looks before Cecil starts to speed up, whilst Kevin presses in closer and toys at Carlos' nipple with his tongue.

" _Oh please_ ," Carlos gasps, when he can't keep silent any longer. He certainly doesn't know how he's going to hold on much longer… but he will. He _will_.

The sensation gradually winds higher and higher, until Carlos is arched right up into it, into Cecil, the feeling of him deep inside pushing Carlos further and further under.

" _Please_ ," he keeps whispering, a soft and suddenly unstoppable litany of bliss. " _Please_."

He's still murmuring in need as Cecil finally comes, gasping in pleasure and gripping Kevin's hand again, so he's holding them both as release thunders through him, before dropping down against Carlos. And, despite it all, he starts teasing at Carlos' other nipple with his tongue, so now they're both doing it, and they _clearly_ know it's driving him completely out of his mind. Pushing him right to the edge.

Carlos is hovering on it, now; hovering on the very cusp of release… but he won't fall. He won't. Not until they say the word, and give him that last final nudge.

He can't move. Can't see. Though he's not sure if any of that is due to external sources anymore. He just… _is_ , caught between them, lost in sensation, and beyond a shadow of a doubt he has never felt more free.

Slowly, slowly, Cecil pulls back and lies down beside him, and now both doubles are trailing gentle fingertips across his skin, over and over, as if they know he'll wait for them forever.

He will, though. For as long as they ask it, he will.

"How do you feel?" Cecil asks him.

Carlos tries to answer, but the words are long gone and in no hurry to come back. He settles for a soft, appreciative murmur instead.

"That good?" Kevin remarks, with an obvious smile in his tone.

Another little murmur. Words don't belong here. This is too fundamental for words.

There's a very deliberate pause, and then both doubles push a hand between his legs again, fingers locked around each other as they start to stroke him. And _that_ makes Carlos feel as though the whole world has inverted with a snap, jolting the air back into his lungs. They're going to pull him apart, completely and utterly, and he loves it.

And he knows they do too.

Cecil and Kevin lean in closer, still stroking him, both kissing him on the neck before whispering – in perfect unison – " _Come for us_."

And Carlos does. He comes so hard that he's confident the whole world would turn black, if he could see it. Arching up as release races through him, he cries out in gratitude, a single shock of movement that makes him tug on both wrists, feeling again how firmly he's held. The moment takes a long time to pass, as if they've wound him up so tightly that the recoil is drawn out all the more, and he's exhausted as he finally drops back.

"Now _that_ was amazing," Kevin says, softly, tracing fingertips over Carlos' chest.

" _Completely_ amazing," Cecil concurs.

Carlos has to agree. Wholeheartedly. He doesn't have the words to do it, but he manages a little nod, and hopes it speaks volumes.

He means it to. Because. _Yes_.

For several moments, Cecil and Kevin just lie either side of him, stroking gently over his skin, kissing him softly, letting him drift on the lingering sensations for as long as possible. Eventually, he feels fingertips tracing up his cheeks, and they carefully slip the blindfold from his eyes. The world beyond is little more than a haze, though, but that's just fine. Everything feels _incredible_. _He_ feels incredible. Even the slightest touch sends shivers of bliss running through him, and he'd happily lie here, like this, for as long as possible.

"Good?" Kevin murmurs, in his ear.

Carlos nods some more. Kevin laughs warmly. "We thought you'd approve."

Slowly, they reach up, unlatching the cuffs holding him and gently stroking his wrists as they guide his arms back down. And even though his arms are – understandably – a little stiff from being held like that, Carlos doesn't mind in the slightest. Carlos doesn't mind pretty much anything right now.

"Just let us hold you," Cecil whispers, as they carefully roll him onto his side so that Cecil can gather him in close, with Kevin curling in behind. And feeling their arms around him is just even _more_ lovely, making Carlos murmur in happiness.

Real, true, genuine happiness. Because that's what this is. They saved Night Vale. They saved Desert Bluffs. They have each other and everything is suddenly, finally, _right_.

And, still lost in the lingering sensations, still held in the arms of the two men who are his whole world, Carlos drifts gradually off to sleep.

***

When reality finally reasserts, Carlos is aware of several things. The warm glow of dawn is glittering just behind the curtains, which means he's slept the whole night without waking. He doesn't seem to have moved much, either, given that he's still in Cecil's arms, with Kevin wrapped in behind him, and _wow_ but that's just _lovely_ right now.

He can feel a low ache, running through his whole body, which serves as a very welcome reminder of last night. Of… did they… and…?

…OK, wow.

"Hello, you," Kevin says, softly, tightening his arm around Carlos. "How do you feel?"

"… _Wonderful_ ," Carlos manages, though there's not enough emphasis in the world for how much he means it.

"Good," Cecil adds, opening his eyes and smiling at them both. "Last night was amazing."

"More than amazing," Carlos answers. "I… just… _wow_."

"We're glad you approve," Kevin replies. "We thought you might."

"Please do that again," Carlos adds, rather fast. "Seriously. _Please_."

They both hold him tighter. "Now that's what we like to hear," Cecil says, sounding very content.

And for now, all Carlos wants is to lie between them, where he can feel them both pressed in close, right and left, dexter and sinister. His chiral lovers.

His enantiomers.

***

Going back to Night Vale is a strange experience.

It takes a little while. They set out in Kevin's car – retrieved from around the corner from his sister's house, the day he took her home – but have to stop out in the desert to pick up Cecil's, left parked a short way off the road the morning he and Carlos first went to Desert Bluffs.

Then they head homewards. Their first stop is Steve Carlsberg's place, in the desert between the two towns. As they say their goodbyes, Steve gives Cecil a hug and Cecil – for once – doesn't object.

In fact, Carlos is confident the man is – subtly – hugging his brother-in-law back. Even if he'd never admit to it.

And then, Cecil, Kevin and Carlos continue on, up towards Night Vale itself. Before long, familiar streets and buildings are passing by the windows… and it _is_ strange. They've only been gone two and a half weeks, but it feels so much longer. Like _months_. Like half a lifetime.

Yet here they are, finally back. Finally _home_. It's early afternoon by the time they arrive and – eager to start broadcasting again – Cecil and Kevin decide to head straight to the radio station.

Carlos goes with them. It seems appropriate. Plus, after last night… he wants to stay close. Tomorrow he can call all the scientists together and start getting back to normality. Today… today he just wants to be with his boyfriends.

The radio station, like everything else, is just as he remembers it. Quite a few interns and other staff members crowd round as the three of them walk in, breaking into spontaneous applause and making both of the station's flagship presenters – and their scientist boyfriend – blush more than a little.

"You made it!" squeals Intern Janelle, hurrying over as everyone starts to get back to work. "I'm so excited to see you. No one has talked about anything else since the day you first did your dual-broadcast. What a surprise that was! Plus, get this, we had some of the scientists over earlier, and they said those weather balloons you launched are still hovering in the same place, up in the sky between Night Vale and Desert Bluffs. So, if you want to keep broadcasting to both towns… you can!"

Cecil and Kevin exchange a smile. "We know," Kevin replies. "We've been planning as much. The new – and much more benevolent – CEO of Strexcorp was very in favour of the idea…"

"Apparently Intern Maureen has been broadcasting in our absence?" Cecil says to Janelle. "Is she here?"

"Oh! Yes!" Janelle exclaims. "She's down in the studio, actually."

"Thanks," Cecil tells her. "We'll go say hi."

Leaving Intern Janelle watching them rather adoringly, they head on down to Cecil and Kevin's studio. Intern Maureen is indeed inside, making some adjustments to the sound board. She looks up as they walk in, expression blending from surprised to irate with remarkable speed.

"Cecil Palmer!" she exclaims. "So you finally deign to come back!"

"Uh… you do know we went to liberate Desert Bluffs from Strexcorp, right?" Cecil says, looking a little alarmed by the intern-shaped ball of fury he's suddenly faced with.

"Sure I do," Maureen answers. "Or, I do _now_. Of course, for _days_ no one knew where you _or_ Kevin had gone. It's not like you thought to leave a _note_ or a _voicemail_ or maybe even a goshdarned _tweet_ to tell us all where you were!"

"…I was distracted," Cecil replies, somewhat guiltily.

"And _I_ was left holding the fort!" Maureen goes on, clearly not done. "I had to present the show myself for over two weeks! And you know what? You saw all the other interns?"

"…Yes," Cecil answers.

"You know what they all are?"

"…Interns?"

"Not dead!" Maureen exclaims. "None of them are dead! I didn't get a single one of them killed, Cecil, in over two weeks. That's got to be a station record!"

"…Good for you?"

"Why can't _you_ not get them killed? It's very inconsiderate!"

Cecil looks shocked. "I don't get them killed! It isn't my fault if a lot of them _happen_ to die all the time! Community radio is a dangerous business!"

"Well, _I_ managed it!" Maureen points out. "Maybe you could give it a try once in a while!"

"Uhm… I will do that," Cecil concedes, although Carlos suspects this is mostly to placate Maureen. "So… how have things been going?"

"Just great!" Maureen replies, still very hotly, as if this too is an affront. "Janelle finished naming the last of the ants and Arvinder made it back from the tape bunker without a _scratch_. You see? This is how _good_ intern management works!"

"And I'm sure we can learn from that," Kevin interjects, smoothly, in the very Strexcorp tone that he can apparently still use to great effect. "For now… we'd _really_ like to get back to broadcasting."

Maureen has always been more cautious around Kevin, and she opts to give a careful nod. "All right. All right. I'll leave you to it. Just… you remember what I said, Cecil!"

"I will," Cecil promises. "Also… could you be a dear and make us some coffee?"

This gets him quite a scowl. "You sure you wouldn't prefer _orange juice?_ " Maureen asks, pointedly.

"No," Cecil answers, quickly. "No. Just coffee. Please."

Maureen gives him one last narrowed look, and then heads out.

When they're alone, Kevin claps his hands together. "Right!" he says, brightly. "Let's do this! Oh, it's so good to be back."

Cecil smiles. "Isn't it just?"

They settle at opposite sides of the broadcast table, making final preparations, whilst Carlos watches, a smile on his own face – because, at the end of the day, there's nothing quite like watching these two at work.

Or just listening, of course. Mustn't forget that.

And wow, but it's been a long road to get back here. Such a long road. And though it was a difficult one… it all feels worthwhile now.

Worthwhile and wonderful.

Familiar lights flick on… and they're live.

 _"Under a silver moon, the very fabric of our dreams is revealed; bright and beautiful and full of potential,"_ Cecil begins.

 _"And under a golden sun, a whole world of possibilities shimmer; palpable and wonderful and ready to be realised,"_ Kevin continues.

They look at each other and smile, and then speak in unison: words that seal their victory once and for all.

_"Welcome to the Greater Night Vale and Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Areas."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it! Thank you so much for reading all this way - I truly hope you've enjoyed this insane thing that took up a good seven and a half months of my life! Eternal gratitude and sparkles to those of you who have left kudos and comments as I've been posting - every one completely makes my day. :-)
> 
> And yes, before anyone even asks... I've already started part three!
> 
> Coming Soon in Chiralityverse: A family visit. A face from the past. A city divided in two by a sudden and unforeseen event. Also, bowling.


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